Slow Seduction
by Cobalt Violet
Summary: This man was the very epitome of sex. When Prince Legolas of Mirkwood arrives in Rivendell, he is caught up in a bet between Arwen and her betrothed. Unwittingly, he begins to fall for the man they call Estel...(LA)
1. Chapter One

**CB:** Having been reading Aragorn/Legolas slash for nearly six months, I finally decided that it was time to put pen to paper (or at least fingers to keyboard) and give my own story a try.  
**Seth:** Um…excuse me? What about Obsidian Rhapsody?

**Osirus:** And Making Waves?

**Seth:** Not to mention Long Loves The Lily.

**CB:** No, _not_ to mention it, anyway, I'm ignoring both of you now since it's your entire fault anyway!

**Osirus:** Our fault? *Looks shocked* How?

**CB:** Muses *cough cough* giving me ideas!

**Warnings: **SLASH meaning MALE/MALE RELATIONSHIPS, have we all got this? If you do not like to men making out or whatever, don't bother reading this and then flaming me because I will only get angry…and you don't want that. ^_^ Also, slight cross-dressing in later chapters, although it isn't really an…um…_hobby_ of any of the characters.

**Pairings:** Aragorn/Legolas is the main one, although there is sort of one sided, very mild Arwen/Aragorn.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the fantastic world of Middle Earth, or the characters that live within it. They all belong to the Tolkien Trust Fund and indeed to JRR Tolkien himself, may he rest in peace.

The gentle breeze, that barely ruffled the leaves of the trees in Rivendell, swept long blonde hair back from a pale smooth face and gently teased its ends, blowing softly around a green clad body and lifting the heavy material very slightly. Blue eyes peered down through the leaves as their owner smiled to himself and clutched tighter to a smooth silver pendant that was clenched in one hand. Lightly, the young male elf shifted his weight slightly, every movement betraying the grace that was hereditary within all of his kind, but particularly those of the woodlands.

The bough on which he was perched creaked slightly, swaying from side to side as Prince Legolas of Mirkwood hopped lightly from it to a close kin, before reaching out, gripping the trunk and slipping to the ground with a light thump. A few small birds that had been perched on a nearby bush chirruped in astonishment at the sudden appearance of the being, before they took off in a flutter of wings, wheeling towards the skies as they called with keening voices to one another.

Legolas smiled slightly in quiet enjoyment of the beautiful garden, sighing in appreciation as he looked to either side and saw nobody except two small butterflies. This was one of the only reasons he loved coming to Rivendell on diplomatic missions, the rest of the time it was a political hell, but in the quietness of the morning before everyone else had risen, the still, sweet silence of the spectacular gardens was worth a hundred assemblies.

The soft chanting of the brook that splashed through the trees caught his attention and he began to sprint towards it, revelling in the use of muscle that had been holding still for too long as he stretched his legs, sprinting along the small river's banks and weaving in and out of the trees as he followed its path to where it ended in a small pool, paved all around with old, grey stone.

Barely panting, he stopped at the edge and peered in. Wide blue eyes stared back at him, surrounded by dark lashes and windswept hair. Ripples spread on the surface as he gently touched one finger to the water, testing the temperature, considering, eyes thoughtful.

"Warm." He muttered to himself in elvish, submerging his whole hand before withdrawing it quickly and stripping down so he was clad only in his shirt. 

Carefully, he stepped over the edge of the pool and down into the water, smiling to himself as he discovered it was indeed warm enough, and crystal clear. So clear in fact that he could see the fish just below his feet, which were now treading water. "Alath no hen." He smiled to himself at the familiar words his father had told him when he was a child. _'An elf is as pure as water.'_ He considered this; it was true, an elf_ was_ as pure as water, but he had long ago learnt that water could easily be tainted, and so could elves, both similar in this respect.

Sighing and brushing away all deep thoughts, he drew a breath and sank below the surface. Looking up he could see everything, from the clouds to the sky that was just beginning to turn a light blue in the early morning. He could see birds winging their way south, and then, quite suddenly, he saw stormy grey eyes, dark hair, and a surprised look.

********

Aragorn was not used to laying in bed because rising early was part of his habitual lifestyle, even when he was staying at home in Rivendell. And so he awoke just before dawn and silently dressed before heading down the stairs, determined not to wake anyone else at such an ungodly hour.

Stepping outside, he was soon walking briskly towards one of the many woodlands surrounding Rivendell, and it was not long before he stumbled into a small clearing. A large pool was in the middle, paved all around in the grey stone that was used frequently in the older buildings of the Elven dwellings. Trees crowded around the square paving, their branches moving occasionally in the soft breeze, leaves rustling as though they were calling out to one another.

Aragorn smiled, his heart feeling strangely at peace as he looked at the quiet scene. When, quite suddenly, he heard an intake of breath and a soft splash, both noises coming from the pool.

Frowning, he walked quickly over, eyebrows creased in puzzlement, as at first, he saw nothing. Ripples were spreading on the surface, but nothing more indicated another living being anywhere in the vicinity. He was just about to turn away, when his eyes drifted slowly down to rest on the bottom of the pool, and there, looking up at him with an identical expression of surprise, was an elf.

Starting, he jumped back as the creature broke the surface, hair shining with wet droplets as it was tossed back so the elf could see more clearly. Imperious blue eyes met startled grey ones and the elf's mouth opened in a round 'O' of surprise as he took in the black, casual attire of the ranger, this man seemed to be the very epitome of sex.

"Who are you, and why do you enter the dwelling place of the elves, human?" The elf demanded, more with shock than anything else. "Do you not know that it forbidden to pass beyond the silver gates, which are guarded by my kin? And what do you mean by coming upon me whilst I bathe?" The voice, too, was imperious, but at the same time, soft, like the chiming of bells that are swaying in the wind. The elf's dark eyebrows knitted in a small frown as he watched the ranger's eyes sweep over the half of his body that was above water. From golden hair to the surface and back again.

"My name is Estel." The man said eventually, his eyes once more meeting those of the elf, "I have permission to be here from Lord Elrond himself." He smiled slightly, taking in the raised eyebrow that elegantly spoke of the elf's surprise and disbelief. "And who may I call you?" He inquired politely, sitting on a small bench that was placed to one side of the pool.

"I am Legolas Greenleaf, of the Mirkwood realm." The elf replied carefully in return, his eyes betraying his suspicion to the human's intentions. "You may have Lord Elrond's permission to be in this land, Estel, but why are you in this particular grove at this particular time?" Unmindful of his nakedness, he hauled himself out of the water and began to dress, ignoring the man's look of surprise.

"I rose early and came walking." Aragorn turned his head away, staring into the line of trees so he would not have to look at the elf, who was pulling on a pair of breeches. "It is no crime to stumble into a clearing unintentionally, Beren (1) did much the same thing once…" The man smiled as he turned to look at the elf's face once more, and saw the evident surprise, "…But I seem to have discovered something far more beautiful even than Lúthien."

Legolas' eyes widened in surprise and his cheeks suddenly burned at the compliment the man had made him. He was used to praises for his beauty, but it was something completely unexpected in a situation like this, and he could already see the man did not pay compliments lightly. "How do you know our legends so well?" He asked, "When you are of the race of men?"

The man – Estel – shrugged lightly, "Long have I studied your people and their ways." He said, smiling again as he stood up, "And well do I know these stories."

A chiming from a distant tower brought Legolas back a small sense of normality, and he started, looking towards the sound. "I fear I must leave you Estel, as interesting as our conversation has been." For the first time, he smiled back at the man, feeling a flush on his cheeks again at the sight of the commanding yet unassuming figure. "I have an important meeting to keep."

Aragorn bowed slightly, "As do I, I hope we will meet again soon Legolas of Mirkwood, I have enjoyed your company."

Legolas nodded in return, before grabbing the remainder of his clothing and walking swiftly from the clearing, leaving behind a very puzzled and confused man.

But his own mind was not much better.

********

Arwen, the Evenstar of elves was in her room, quietly sipping wine from a silver goblet as she waited for her friend. Her maid was fussing over a table that was groaning under breakfast dishes and two sets of cutlery and plates, but she was paying no heed as she stared out of the window, her fingers idly playing with the shining necklace that rested at the base of her throat as she remembered her first meeting with the one men called Aragorn.

A sudden rapping on the door brought her back to the present, and with a swift movement, she placed the goblet on the nearby table and nodded to her maid to open the door, allowing the golden haired visitor inside.

Smiling, she held out her arms in greeting, and found herself swept into an exuberant hug by the taller elf, who cried out in joy as he embraced her, "Arwen, it is good to see you again after so many years." Drawing back, he smiled down at her, blue eyes playful as he patted her head like that of an older brother, even though they were nearly of the same age. "How is the Evenstar of the elves?" He enquired, although his soft voice held an undertone of seriousness.

"The Evenstar is perfectly well," She replied, hugging him once more before leading him to the table, "But how is the shining jewel of Mirkwood?" She laughed as he pulled a sour face at the title, which had been bestowed upon him by a member of the court. Then, picking up a plate she offered him the food on it.

Gratefully he took it and began to cut it before replying. "As well as can be expected when I am forced to sit on a council all day and listen to complaints about the ruling of the lands." He smiled again, but then his face went serious, "Elrond tells me you are in love Arwen…" He trailed off as her cheeks flushed, but his gaze was searching and she knew that he would find out all he could one way or another.

"Legolas…" She began, her expression pleading as she looked at him, "I am no longer a child, if I tell you about him, you must promise not to go leaping into a situation with him that you do not understand." She smiled, "We are no longer small like we once were, you cannot protect me like you once did."

He sighed, before reaching across the table and rumpling her hair affectionately, "I know, but it is hard to accept, little Evenstar, that I cannot always keep you from harm." He smiled at her in brotherly affection, "But if you truly love this man, I will not stand in your way." His eyes crinkled in amusement at the look of relief on her face, then leant back in his chair, "Now, tell me about him."

"His name is Aragorn," She began hesitantly, unused to talking about him to anyone, "He is a mortal man, but he is Isildur's heir, which means he can unite the world of men again." She paused, her eyes shining, "And I believe he can do it, he is a man of unmatched greatness. You only have to look at him to know of his lineage." She smiled softly at Legolas, whose mind flashed suddenly back to the man in the clearing, it had been obvious to him that this man held a powerful command, perhaps Arwen's love was similar to this man.

"But Arwen," He said gently, "He is mortal, one day he will die, and you will be left alone in this world. Is it wise to love a man?" As he said this, he felt suddenly, very strange, as if even he did not believe his own words. "It would not be wise to become attached to a mortal." He said, almost trying to reassure himself.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear it of sudden, disturbing thoughts that involved dark hair and grey eyes, that had swept across his skin, simply drinking in the sight of him, and lips that had curved into a small smile as they talked about Beren and Lúthien. _'Stop it!'_ He told himself fiercely as he listened to Arwen protest that her love was undying, even to this mortal man, _'You have spoken to him but once, and yet he seems fixed in your thoughts, you are acting like you are no more than a child. This man is not important to you_.' All the same, his mind couldn't help lingering on a black clad body and a deep, cultured voice that would probably have no difficulty in speaking the elvish tongue.

Shaking himself free of his thoughts again, he looked at Arwen, a frown marking his face. "And does he return your affection?" He enquired, "Does he love you as much as you seem to adore him?"

She flushed slightly, looking down at the tabletop, but her eyes rose again to meet his. "I…I believe so." Suddenly she looked cross, "Stop treating me like a child, Legolas!" She scolded, "I am nigh on the same age as you, and yet you have the ability to make me feel like a young girl again, who has been caught in the stables when she shouldn't be." She frowned at his amused expression, "I am you equal, not you younger, you should behave in the same manner as I do to you."

Legolas laughed outright at this protestation. "I am sorry little Evenstar, I cannot help it, I simply view you as a younger sister." He smiled at her outraged expression at this description of her in his eyes, "But if it helps, I will try to treat you with the respect that is befitting for the Evenstar, is that better?"

Her expression changed to one of sheepishness as he teased her. "No, Legolas, I would not have you treat me in that way for all the fire in Mordor." She smiled, "I'm being a bit silly, aren't I?"

"Just a bit, little Evenstar." He replied, still smiling affectionately. "But if I can put up with you, I am sure this Aragorn will be able to." He watched her laugh, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"So where were you this morning?" She asked, tactfully trying to change the subject, "What made you so late?"

Legolas caught onto what she was trying to do instantly, but allowed her to get away with it, not pursuing the subject of her mortal love any further for the moment. "How did you know I was not in this house this morning?" He enquired innocently, "Maybe I was simply talking with your father in his study, having risen early."

She smiled at him, before buttering a roll. "Then my maid would have found you, I sent her to enquire whether you would like to meet me for an earlier breakfast, but you were nowhere in the house." She eyed him as she bit into the bread before swallowing and wiping her mouth delicately with a napkin. "So, where had you gone, I wonder?"

Legolas casually poured himself a goblet of wine, saying carelessly, "I awoke early and went for a walk in the gardens, why so curious, Arwen?"

"Ah," She said, slightly smugly, "Because a walk would not take so long as it took you. No, dear Legolas, I feel you were doing something besides walking." She smiled again at his look of dumbfounded amazement.

"Do you really keep that close an eye on me, little Evenstar?" He demanded, raising one eyebrow. "Very well, if you must know, I was swimming as well, in a pool, when someone…unexpected…stumbled across me." A sudden dreamy expression flitted across his face, it was gone in an instant, but Arwen's sharp eyes caught it, and a small, knowing smile crept across her face.

"Really?" She feigned innocence, "Who was it?"

"A man," He replied, "He was very polite, very courteous, even when I was rude to him, puzzled as to why he was there." He smiled at her, his eyes showing nothing, "We talked for a while, that is why I was late. Now will you stop pestering me, beauty of the elves, or do I have to go and knock out your lover?"

The jibe had the intended effect, and Arwen rose to the bait. "He is not my _lover_ Legolas, as well you know." She pursed her lips in disapproval at his obvious amusement, but her face held a curious quality as she watched Legolas, who appeared to be staring down at the tabletop, a faint smile on his face.

"His name." She said suddenly.

"What?" 

"Tell me his name, an I will ask no more about him." She raised the goblet to her lips.

Legolas looked at her for a second, before deciding to take her at her word. "Very well, little Evenstar, if I tell you, will you drop the subject?" He smiled at her affectionately, "Because I fear you are putting too much emphasis on the situation, we simply talked."

"Of course." Arwen smiled sweetly although her eyes were dancing with humour at calm, collected Legolas being stumbled upon whilst swimming, and losing his temper with a man. "But you have to admit, it is very much like Beren and Lúthien." Her words had more of an impact than she had imagined they would.

The tips of Legolas' ears turned red and his lips curled up at the ends, forming a half smile as his eyes seemed to focus on something further away. It was then that the Evenstar fully realised that her friend had fallen badly in love, even if he himself didn't realise it. "Like Beren and Lúthien," he murmured softly to himself, "That is just what he said." He murmured.

"_His name!_" Arwen urged in annoyance, raising the goblet to her lips to drink again.

"His name is Estel."

The goblet crashed unheeded to the floor, the red wine spilling across the white tiling like blood, staining everything it touched.

_To Be Continued…_


	2. Chapter Two

**CB:** Wow…is all I can say, just…wow… I upload this fic, and within _two days_ I have thirty reviews. All you guys are absolutely amazing! *Prostrates herself at the feet of her readers*

**Seth:** Excuse me? Who was it that was complaining about us giving her too much inspiration?

**CB:** *Mutters quietly and looks sheepish*

**Osirus:** *Looks triumphant*

**CB:** Ok, so I have my muses to thank too…but the reviewers are still better! *Sticks her tongue out at her muses* So there.

"Arwen?" Legolas stared at the princess, whose face had gone the colour of newly fallen snow. "Arwen, little Evenstar, are you all right?" He stood up from the table and walked swiftly to the other side, gripping her shoulder and turning her to look at him. "Speak to me, Arwen!" He shook her slightly as she blinked up at him, her expression bordering on disbelief and confusion. "What on _earth _is the matter?" Blonde hair swinging, Legolas knelt down beside her as she continued to simply stare at him, blue eyes blank with what appeared to be…strangely enough… horror.

Several seconds passed, and still she did not move, the only sign of life the blinking of her eyelids, and the nervous, quick movement of her fingers knotting through one another as she opened and shut her mouth soundlessly.

"Arwen…" He tried again, his voice beginning to shake slightly with worry, "Arwen, what's the matter?" His other hand came up, patting her cheek lightly, trying to get her to respond. "Is it because you know this man? Do you know Estel?" He seemed to have hit something there, because Arwen suddenly gave a shuddering gasp and clutched one of his hands in hers, her fingers tightly knotting with his.

"Galadh, (1)" She murmured, looking down at him, her eyes brimming with fear, "I believe I do know the man they call Estel." She smiled weakly at his curious expression, and let go of his hand. Drawing a deep breath, she looked away and out of the window, where the sun was gently warming the gardens, its light creeping slowly over old stone and young saplings.

Legolas stood up, his face still curious and more than a little confused, but his expression relaxed when Arwen turned her head again, looking up at him with no hint of the fear she had seemed to hold only brief moments ago. "And now Galadh, the sun is already high, and it seems to me that you should have long ago been holding counsel with my father." She smiled at his expression of mock terror and stood up, also, shooing him towards the door. "We will dine together this evening at the ball, I hope?" She asked as she pushed him out of the door.

"Of course Little Evenstar," He replied with a mock bow, blue eyes sparkling again as he teased her, "For who could deny your radiant presence and lovely voice, or you fair looks and…"

Arwen huffed indignantly, stamping on foot childishly, "You mock me Legolas; I will bid thee good morning." She tossed her head in affected haughtiness, but her cheeks dimpled as she smiled at his wounded expression. "I will see you this evening at the ball Galadh." She said more gently, and closed the door in his face.

Through the thick, dark wood, she heard Legolas' indignant shout of, "Don't call me Galadh! I am no sapling!" Before an older, smoother voice interrupted his words.

"And yet, you continue to act like one, perhaps Arwen is right in her naming of you."

And Legolas' indignant reply as he was swept off down the corridor, arguing with Elrohir, who had been sent to make him attend the counsel, which had indeed started a good half an hour ago.

Arwen smiled quietly, and leant back against the door, her head turned to the side as she stared thoughtfully at the rich, light tapestry that adorned one wall, made by her grandmother, Galadriel. Her fingers suddenly tightened convulsively again as she remembered Legolas' look of dreamy contemplation, and his soft voice describing the meeting between himself and the one they called Estel.

"My Lady?" Arwen's maid had returned, bringing with her a bundle of soft cloth, "I have brought your dress for this evening." Forest green eyes regarded the Evenstar as the dress was held out. "I have ensured that it will match Lord Aragorn's." She added, pushing curly dark hair back from her forehead.

This was the wrong thing to say. Before the elf maiden could react, Arwen had turned to her and snatched the dress, flinging it to the floor in a rare moment of temper and unbridled rage. "I care not whether it matches Lord Aragorn's," She informed the startled servant, "For even if our clothes match, our emotions never will." She raised her head, blue eyes flashing and her high cheekbones flushing. In that moment, any elf who had regarded her, would have had no problem in seeing her lineage, her every gesture, movement and tone of voice spoke of imperial authority. 

And then, quite suddenly, as quickly as the rage had come upon her, it left, leaving only despair in its wake, as she saw the shocked look on her maid's face, and realised that she was being unjust. "Forgive me," She muttered, stooping to pick up the soft blue gown, "I allowed my temper to rule me for a moment…I beg your forgiveness."

The other woman smiled and held out a pair of shoes to go with the dress. "I know of nothing to forgive, Lady Arwen," She took the dress and draped it over the back of a chair, "Even the most stout-hearted of elves occasionally despairs when it comes to love…but do not give in, I am sure that Lord Aragorn returns your feelings just as deeply…or he will when he sees you in this." She spoke with such confidence in her voice, that Arwen's worry faded slightly, and her brow smoothed, allowing her to smile softly.

"Perhaps you are right." She said, feeling more confident, "For surely if Aragorn had met…someone…but once, he would not fall in love with them."

"Ah, surely not." The maid replied, shaking her head, "For men are a strange lot, they do not feel as quickly or as deeply as our kin often do." She smiled and patted Arwen's shoulder in sisterly affection. 

Arwen laughed and hugged her, before releasing her and regaining some royal bearing once more. Crossing the room, her silken robes rustling with each step, she sat down in front of her mirror, and her maid picked up her hairbrush, beginning to pass it through the ebony hair that gleamed in the pale sunlight. "What would I do without you Elaría?" She asked fondly, resting her hands on her lap and looking at her maid's reflection in the mirror.

"Most likely behave like a spoilt child." Elaría smacked Arwen's head lightly with the brush, "Now, you must cheer up, for the gathering in the hall is this evening."

"Ah yes," Arwen mused, "I promised I would allow Legolas to escort me there."

Elaría's eyes crinkled in a smile. "How is the youngest Prince of Mirkwood?" She enquired fondly.

Arwen sighed, but her lips curled into a small smile as she remembered Legolas' animated conversation earlier. "He is very well," She said softly, looking down at her folded hands, "And much the same as ever…" But she couldn't help thinking that this was perhaps not entirely correct. Legolas looked the same, indeed, he acted very similar to their last meeting, which had taken place some ten years before, but there was something not quite right in his mannerisms.

And Arwen's mind couldn't help but reach the horrible conclusion that it might have something to do with Aragorn, and she couldn't help but linger on blue eyes that had seemed to sparkle with something extra when they talked of a lakeside meeting and the man that had once been known as Estel.

********

Aragorn had known many elves throughout his life, and all of them had been beautiful and wise, beings of a supreme nature. He had played with elf children as a young boy, and had hunted with older elves as a man. He had encountered many different races of elf and could fluently speak their language. He had been known to be pursued by no less than three elf women at any given time, but he had never been known to miss a counsel meeting when he had specifically been requested to attend by Lord Elrond.

Currently, he was sitting in one of the large gardens that were surrounded by trees; his brow furrowed thoughtfully, his dark hair lifting slightly in the breeze as he sat, quite still. The only sound was the rustling leaves of the trees and the quiet trickling of the brook that flowed throughout the peaceful realm of the elves.

He smiled slightly as he thought of the soft voice, so similar to the flowing water, which seemed to have captivated him earlier in the glade. //"_What do you mean, coming upon me whilst I bathe?"//_ He snorted in amusement at his own inner memory, in which the elf had risen from the depths of the pool like some ancient water seraph. Shaking his head, he let out a small, derogatory laugh as he mocked himself for believing such perfection existed.

"I am sure the elf was beautiful," He announced to the sky, quite suddenly, "But I have been known to over exaggerate things." All the same, as he glanced over at the small river, he couldn't help but compare it to the blue of imperious eyes, that had looked with haughty defiance at him as their owner dressed quickly. He felt strangely odd when he realised that the colour of the water had something lacking, and could be compared insomuch as a Raven can to that of a snow white dove.

As his mind lingered on long, blonde hair that's tips had ended just tantalising inches above a bare waist, he felt suddenly light headed, as though he had swallowed five cups of mead one after the other, and was beginning to suffer the consequences. '_It is as though you desire this elf_,' a teasing voice in his head whispered, '_despite the love of the Evenstar, you see only this stranger's beauty._' Aragorn shook his head, trying to rid himself of this new, and strangely accurate noise in his brain.

But the voice continued on, relentlessly. '_His body is perfection…do not deny it, you saw the elf and his looks pleased you, but it's not just looks, is it?'_ The strange voice lowered to a whisper, and Aragorn suddenly realised it was that of a woman, '_He has an air of sadness about him, a slight flash in his blue eyes that bespeaks of suffering, but that is not all. He is full of light and grace, a grace you would all too willingly see him fall from, would you not?'_ The voice seemed to turn slightly malicious, the woman's voice going higher in pitch as it laughed softly, '_You would see him fall from the light, tarnished and dirty, you would see him in front of you on bended knee, a willing slave, wanting nothing more than your touch. Yes, dear Estel,' _It continued as Aragorn started slightly, drawing in a shaky breath, '_I know that you would wish to be the one who makes him tainted…I see your mind… even after so brief a meeting, you can think of nothing else.'_

"Who are you?" The man whispered into the silence of the clearing, grey eyes widening as he stared at the belt of trees, not really seeing them, "What do you want?"

'_I am a friend in a high place, young heir.'_ The voice replied in amusement, '_I am the light that symbolises grace…and yet…'_ the voice turned sad, as the woman's voice hushed until it was barely more than a whisper, like a passing breath of wind, '_…and yet I too, know what it feels like to fall from grace, and to have that which I desire be the one to taint me._'

"What do you mean?" Aragorn whispered back.

And what a strange sight it would have been, had any of the elves seen him then. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, sitting by his self in the centre of a glade, talking to the air as thought it could answer him, brow furrowed in concentration, fists clenched in agitation as he fidgeted slightly, no longer the still, solitary figure he was often seen to be.

The voice, however, did not reply again, and it left Aragorn feeling more confused than ever. (2)    

********

"Where is Aragorn?" Elrond's brow furrowed as he looked around the council, dark hair floating slightly in the breeze. The imperious man was clad in a deep green, trimmed with silver velvet that flashed like serpent's scales in the early winter sun, which was peering in watery waves through the trees which were shading his council.

Gathered within this council was a strange assortment of creatures from all over Middle Earth; from high representatives of Hobbits, to lordly men, fair elves and even two towering Ents, who were swaying from side to side ever so slightly, looking for all the world like no more than a pair of large oaks, bent double with age.

Elrohir, slumped in his seat with an immaturity that was not becoming of his age old lifetime, wearily shook his head, either in defeat or reply to his father's question. "I know not, my lord, but it is no longer prudent to wait for him." He ran a hand through his golden hair, making it catch the light, so it shimmered like gold under rushing water, inevitably drawing nearly every eye in the council to his grace and beauty. "If he arrives, we will be glad for his company, if he does not make his presence known, we can survive without him for one meeting."

Legolas, who had been sitting on Elrohir's left, felt a small flash of disappointment as he realised he would not be allowed a glimpse or Arwen's much talked about lover until later this evening, possibly at the ball. He sighed, and allowed darkened eyes to rest on Lord Elrond once more, who was pursing his lips, a frown marring the otherwise smooth forehead.

"Very well," He announced finally, to the council in general, "I will take my son's advice on the matter and proceed with what I have brought you here to discuss…but I can assure all of you, Aragorn will be reprimanded and my sincerest apologies go to all of you for this delay in our discussions." He smiled then, and it was like the leafy realm lit up for a moment with it's king's amusement, the trees seemed to be singing and the air to throb with the very essence of the ancient elf's humour, before it died once more, leaving nothing but a calm and collected appearance.

Legolas also smiled to himself, knowing what the Lord's humour had been about. 'You know these mortals,' his smile had seemed to say, speaking in utter tones of confidentiality to each and every observer in the place, 'they are all young and foolish, we must forgive them for their young impetuousness.' However, as the blond elf listened with half an ear to the heated debate on the encroachment of the forest areas, he couldn't help but feel a sharp stab of disappointment that he had not seen Arwen's beloved.

//_I wonder what he looks like?//_ He thought to himself, allowing his gaze to stray from Elrond's face and flit to the band of trees beyond. //_I wish she had described him to me…//_ He frowned as he recalled her strange and unexplainable behaviour when he had mentioned the morning's events, and his gaze began to move faster, blue eyes randomly flicking with impartial indifference over the faces of the council, lighting on one like a bird on a branch, before flying onto another, ceaseless in his unwitting scrutiny.

"And what does the representative of Greenwood (more recently known as Mirkwood) have to say to this?"

The loud tones echoed around the space, and all heads obediently turned to look at the youngest Prince of Mirkwood, who blinked slightly, looking strangely like a deer caught in the light of some torches. "Uh?" He ventured, flushing slightly and silently berating himself for allowing a lapse in his concentration.

The dwarf who had asked the question watched him, a broad grin of delight on his face. It wasn't often an elf allowed you to better him, and it was even rarer to see one so caught off guard. "Apparently Mirkwood cares not about its borders!" He remarked in jovial wit to his companions, who laughed heartily, also pleased to see a graceful being lost for words.

This seemed to shake the prince out of his self induced stupor, and he leapt to his feet, blue eyes flashing as he looked down at the dwarf, lip all but curled in a sneer of anger and contempt. "Mirkwood does indeed care for its borders," He said, cold tones ringing throughout the now silent assembly, "But we also care for the lands of others, unlike dwarves." Hard blue eyes turned towards the rest of the company from the mines and he smiled, but with no mirth. "Mirkwood is one of the strongest realms in Middle Earth, save perhaps, Rivendell," Legolas nodded with due respect toward Elrond, who inclined his head also in acceptance, "I make this statement to all of you, encroach upon our borders and you will regret it. Encroach upon our allies borders, and you will regret it. Our warriors will not hesitate to defend our lands to the death, and if any of you seek to reach out and pluck the ripe fruit from the tree that is my homeland, you will soon learn that that fruit is poison."

There was a ringing silence following that statement, until one of the men shifted uncomfortable in his seat and cleared his throat. "Yes, well," He said awkwardly, "I think your message is clear Prince Legolas, and may I be the first to assure you that the world of men has no such intentions."

There was a hasty bout of nodding and the council seemed to come alive again as Legolas nodded in acceptance of the man's reassurances and shot a cold glance towards the dwarf, who was still sitting with his mouth open, before he resumed his seat next to Elrohir, who grinned, showing uncharacteristic loss of dignity.

"Might I venture to say, Legolas, that your little tirade has swayed the opinion of the council?" He smiled openly as the normally calm Prince turned to look at him, eyes questioning and lips already parted in the silent question. Elrohir smirked in a satisfied sort of way and swept a hand languidly around the circle of men, elves, dwarves and other creatures. "They were all beginning to think that Mirkwood was for the taking, youngest heir," He said by way of explanation, "You have spoken but three words before this, and many had begun to whisper that your homeland was obviously a place to be taken advantage of, since it sent such a weak representative."

There was a flash of hurt, which showed for a brief second in Legolas' eyes, before he smiled grimly in satisfaction, "Well cousin Elrohir, maybe now they will see that Mirkwood is not some pretty bauble to be conquered and forgotten about."

And Elrohir had to wonder whether Legolas was referring to the lands of his father, or more to himself.

********

Arwen paced her room, silk gown rustling as she moved, creating the sound of whispering leaves as she glanced impatiently out of the window at the darkened sky.

The sun had long ago set, and the stars were now shining like diamonds on the purest of black velvet, as the moon hung in the sky, like a swollen pearl, shining with a ghostly light that bathed everything in a cold glow, making shadows look deeper and any movement menacing. Already Arwen could hear the sounds of revelry coming from the hall where the ball was being held, and she smiled as she heard the two familiar voices of her brothers, raised in a song that told the story of two elves destined to love.

The end of their song was met with, what sounded like, riotous approval, and almost immediately after, there came a knock at her door, that sounded strangely out of place and formal compared to the sounds she could hear that were carried on the still night air.

Shrugging, she crossed the room and flung it open, grinning in a most un-elf like fashion as she regarded Legolas, who solemnly held out the single, pale flower he had brought for her, his eyes twinkling with what could only be described as mocking mischief. "My lady Evenstar." He greeted her cordially as she took the rose, placing it on the nearby table and smoothing her dress. "I have come to escort you to the ball, as you wished." He smiled at her, and one graceful hand extended, palm up, so she could place hers in his.

"My Lord Legolas." Arwen titled her chin up, feigning a distant haughtiness, even as her own eyes betrayed her playfulness, "I am glad you could escort me sir." She accepted the hand, and then linked arms with him, so they were walking side by side and out into the night, across to the large gathering.

"It is my pleasure, oh moon flower of Rivendell." He assured her as they walked gracefully up the stone steps, both unheeding of the many eyes that followed them, drinking in their beautiful features like flowers that have been dying of thirst, and are now granted reprieve by the first rain.

She smiled mischievously at him as they came to a stop before the herald that had been appointed for the evening. Raising one eyebrow, she said, "Why dressed so nicely, prince of Mirkwood?" Her tone was casual, and she made sure it stayed that way, unwilling to arouse Legolas's suspicion as her eyes roamed over his silver tunic and midnight blue britches. "Is it for this man you met but this morning?"

If she had not known better, she would have sworn that a blush stained his high cheekbones, but he merely waved one hand in a dismissive gesture, and laughed at her raised eyebrow. "You see into things too much, Little Evenstar." He informed her, and taking her arm again, they swept into the crowded ballroom.

*******

It was late, Aragorn decided.

In fact, it was _so_ late as to be _early_, and he was no more closer to achieving his goal of spending a few minutes with the beautiful elf who had escorted Arwen in, than he was of leaving the ball and going to bed. 

Legolas of Mirkwood, even in his mind, the name seemed to roll around like a rich wine that should be savoured and kept precious, in fact, just the thought of the beautiful elf was enough to make his head reel, like he _had_ drunk too many goblets of alcohol. And so it was, that he wasn't paying much attention when Arwen asked him to dance.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said," She repeated, looking faintly amused, "That if it is not too much trouble, perhaps we should dance?"

The man pondered this for a second, grey eyes quiet and focused, before he looked up at her once more. "I am sorry, but I feel that it would be unwise." He said as graciously as possible.

She smiled fully then, and her eyes lit up with mischief, making her seem luminous among the candles. "Perhaps it is that you _cannot_ dance?" She suggested, teasing him.

"I can." He said shortly, now looking out towards the dance floor, where his eyes had suddenly caught a flash of silver.

"Prove it to me then." He almost missed her words, and confused grey eyes swung around towards her, a question held in them as the torches flickered overhead and people laughed and ate. "A bet." She continued, explaining to him. "In three weeks from now, there is another ball, and my father is in need of entertainment for our guests, you and at least two other people must perform a dance for him." She laughed then at the look of utmost shock in his face, as he dazedly wondered how he had walked into this trap of words that had ensnared him as easily as a hunter's net does to a deer.

"Very well."

She glanced, surprised at him, before smiling. "Very well," She repeated, "Three weeks hence, Aragorn son of Arathorn, you will dance for us, and you will tell the tale of…" she paused, her eyes considering as the roamed the room before lighting on a solitary figure in one corner, dressed in a silver tunic and blue britches. "You will tell the tale of Beren and Luthíen."

Shocked grey eyes caught her own, and she felt a small sense of satisfaction.

_To Be Continued…_   

(1) Meaning 'little tree' in the elvish tongue

(2) If you are also confused, like Aragorn, please press one now…sorry, just kidding, but don't worry, things _will_ become clearer with the little voices later in the story. Promise!

Two Brief Notes… 

**1) I forgot to put a footnote about Beren and Lúthien in the last chapter, so my apologies to the readers who have not read the books I'll attempt to explain now. Beren was a mortal man, who stumbled across the fairest elf maid of all time (Lúthien) whilst she was dancing in a clearing. They fell in love, and Lúthien eventually chose to forsake her people and become mortal for his love.**

**2) I also sheepishly announce that it slipped my mind to say that this is an AU… but I'm sure you all worked that out anyway! ^_^**


	3. Chapter Three

**CB:** *Eyes well up* Look at all these reviews again! *Sniffs* All of you are so wonderful to me; it's just not possible!

**Seth:** *Mutters darkly about encouragement*

**CB:** *Nods happily* Now I'm simply going to have to get this chapter out faster for all of you!

**Osirus:** *Rolls his eyes*

**Warning:** (Just because I felt like doing another one!) This story contains **MALE/MALE** relationships, and will eventually lead to **GRAPHICAL DESCRIPTIONS** of said relationships. It is also an **AU**, thankyou for your time.

"The ball is entertaining, is it not Legolas?" Elladan turned towards the blond prince, his eyebrows raised to accent his question. "Everyone appears to be enjoying their revelry." He glanced sideways, towards one of the long tables set with food. "Even the dwarves." He added thoughtfully, staring hard at one with a particularly bushy brown beard.

"Mm." Legolas said noncommittally and then, for no reason at all, he sighed.

"Something ails thee?" Elrohir asked, stepping up to his twin brother's side and glancing with curious green eyes at the Mirkwood archer. "You have done naught but stand here all evening and stare across the room." He smiled suddenly, his expression betraying slight mischief, "Look, even the men are having fun." His graceful finger pointed in the direction of a man with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and a beard, who was talking animatedly with Elaría in a corner.

"It seems the Steward of Gondor has taken a liking to this meeting, after all." Elrohir agreed, his voice impish.

"Mm." Legolas said again, brows creasing into a small frown. 

Elrohir glanced at him and nudged his brother, indicating the other Prince with a small flicker of his eyes. Legolas' eyes were intent on someone across the room, but the twins could not be sure at whom his gaze was directed. It was focused with an almost frightening intensity and soft, red lips were parted slightly, to allow a rush of air to escape. A pink tongue flickered briefly across them and Legolas swallowed, his eyes going slightly glassy as Elladan shot Elrohir a worried look of surprise.

_'What's wrong with him?'_ He asked silently, using the mind link that few knew he shared with his twin.

_'I know not.' _Came the thoughtful reply, _'Perhaps it would help if we found the creature that has so entranced him.'_

Elladan's brow furrowed and his next reply was quick, with a note of worry in it. _'Is it wise, brother, to concern ourselves in the matters of the heart? If all should fail if we help him, we will feel keenly the fact that it would, in part, be our fault.'_  His gaze was troubled as he looked at Legolas. '_You know that when we fall in love it is not only with our heart, but our minds, bodies and souls also. If we somehow cause a knot in the problems Legolas may experience in love, it could be fatal.'_

_'Are you sure it is love, and not merely lust?'_ Elrohir asked sharply, his face turned towards his twin, eyes sparkling with interest.

'_Nay, 'tis not lust, Elrohir. Lust is only the giving of a body; love is the giving of **everything**. Look at Legolas, he is intent upon whatever prey it is he stalks, he can see naught else. No, dear brother, there is more in his gaze than lust.'_

Elrohir sighed and pulled a slight face. _'You are far wiser in these things than me, I will submit to your superior knowledge.'_ He admitted, _'But one must wonder who it is that holds our dear cousin _**(1)**_ in such thrall._'

Elladan frowned again, _'I know not, as of yet, but I intend to find out.'_ He smiled suddenly, _'But we must tread cautiously in this art of investigation. Lest we are discovered.'_

_'But in the meantime,' _Elrohir prompted, _'you know that a single kiss can mean the binding of two souls together in our race. If Legolas kisses whoever he hath set his eye upon, and his emotion is as deep as you say it is, then his life may be forever bound to that of the other.'_

_'He knows this.'_ Elladan replied, '_He knows our customs as well as we do, if he kisses the person, knowing the depths of his feelings, then it is a choice he makes freely.'_

Elrohir nodded reluctantly and turned his attention back to the Prince, whose eyes were now narrowed as well, a strange, almost predatory smile upon his face.

********

Arwen smiled sweetly, her eyes betraying nothing as she regarded the shocked expression on Aragorn's face. "Does something ail thee my lord?" She asked politely, watching him with mild concern.

The man's mouth opened and then shut again with an audible click. "No…nothing is wrong Arwen." He managed, allowing a weak smile to show through, "I was merely caught by surprise at your choice of story for me to tell." He swallowed and glanced out across the dance floor again, "Surely I should tell a less well known one?"

Arwen shook her head gravely, "Nay," She replied, "For the tale of Beren and Lúthien is a truly remarkable one, and many of us here never get tired of hearing it." She smiled softly and, raising one pale hand, ran it along the light growth of beard on his cheek. "Hawath ale no ai."(_It is a story of love._) She murmured softly, "Alneía dái no eldar?" (_Surely you would tell of the two lovers?_)

Aragorn sighed and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Dela ní, Arwen." (_Very well, Arwen._) He replied, before his eyes flitted across the room again, and his jaw tightened. "Whom do you wish me to perform with?" He managed after several seconds of silence had stretched between them. "I cannot tell the story alone."

If he had not known better, he would have sworn there was a gleam of triumph in Arwen's eyes, but as her mouth opened, her eyes went strangely blank. "I wish you to dance with a childhood friend of mine," she intoned, and Aragorn noticed her voice sound very different. Lower, sweeter and with an air of severity about it, "You will be instructed by Elaría and two others will join you in your story weaving…but be careful young heir, for one of the other three will capture your heart, and if you give it willingly, yours will be a hard path to walk."

Aragorn shivered as though he had been hit by an icy blast of wind, and the hairs on his arms raised themselves, as if in supplication to the strange voice that appeared to posses Arwen. Then, in the same instant that the Elven Princess gasped and sank to her knees, a sudden thought struck Aragorn like a blow, sending him reeling.

The voice was the same as the earlier one in the clearing.

It was then that two things happened simultaneously.

One of the dwarves, who appeared to have had a bit much to drink, burst into a loud song about gold, metal, something about killing elves and dragons, and had to be hustled out of the room fairly quickly by his companions, all of whom looked more than a little embarrassed by their comrades apparent drunkenness.

The second thing was quite different, and just as unexpected. 

A light touch came on the back of Aragorn's arm, and he turned to see a pair of deep blue eyes looking at him in serious contemplation, whilst a full mouth curved into a smile of greeting.

"Estel, we meet once more."

"Legolas of Mirkwood." Aragorn half bowed before meeting shining eyes once more. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again…in more formal circumstances." He smiled as the elf laughed in delight, straight nose wrinkling slightly as he pulled a rueful expression.

"I admit Estel, our first meeting was not exactly what one would call ideal." He smiled and almost without realising it, and with no forewarning at all, plucked a strand of dark hair that had been hanging in Aragorn's eyes and tucked it behind one of his ears. "But nonetheless," He continued, as if nothing had happened, "Perhaps we will get better acquainted now?"

Aragorn nodded, trying his best to look as though nothing in the world could affect him, not even the beauty of the Elven prince in front of him. "That is a good idea, for I fear we will probably be spending a lot of time in each other's company as it is, so we may as well know one another." He smiled, eyes dancing as the elf ducked his head in acknowledgement. "Come, let us walk throughout the realm of Rivendell this night." He added, almost on a whim, although there seemed to be a slight prod at the back of his mind.

Legolas' eyes sparkled with mischief and he nodded his assent. "Yes, it may be a good way to discover more about one another's characters." He dropped his eyes, suddenly, looking almost shy. "Of course, I will understand if you would prefer to linger here, my personality is poor recompense for these festivities."

Aragorn laughed, "Nay, it was I who suggested the walk, I feel that to back out of it now would be churlish of me." He smiled, real humour flitting through his eyes. "And if you would permit me to say so, your personality is worth more than even the gathering of the finest elves in the land." Grey eyes sparkled with mischief as Legolas flushed slightly, showing an amazing loss of composure for an elf.

"I permit thee Estel." He murmured, bowing slightly, and the two began to walk from the room. Aragorn paused however, suddenly remembering Arwen, from whom he had been distracted by the two events that had happened simultaneously. Glancing round, he noticed that there seemed to be no trace of her…she had simply vanished, like a puff of air on a midsummer's day. Shrugging, he continued to follow Legolas out of the hall.

********

"My cousin!" Glorfindel embraced the slightly taller elf, pecking the youthful male on each cheek before standing back and pretending to crane his neck. "By Elendíl you have grown tall!" He exclaimed, before gesturing with one hand to a pair of seats that were resting along one wall. "I remember you when you were naught but a child." He smiled as they both sank gratefully into the cushions. "'Tis to long since I saw you last!"

"Aye," agreed the other elf solemnly, although his green eyes shimmered with mirth, looking very much like newly grown leaves caught in a breeze. "It must be all of one thousand, perhaps two thousand years!" He smiled and embraced his cousin eagerly again; "Mother would often talk of you, dearest of kin."

Glorfindel let out a disbelieving snort. "Hardly, she has not permitted me to enter her realm for nearly as long as your life span, little one. I was banned on pain of a spanking." He laughed at the shocked expression on the other's face. "I admit, it is true, I do not jest. Ever since I managed to dye your father's hair the same colour as the Eninweed flower…"

"The purple one?" His cousin interrupted, shocked.

"Aye, the same…well…she hath banned me for fear of a repeat incident."

Their laughter rang throughout the hall, causing many heads to turn and look at them. Glorfindel was doubled over, nearly choking with mirth, as his cousin swept long blond hair from his face and passed a hand over his forehead, trembling with the laughs that shook his entire frame. "Ah, mercy cousin, that cannot be it!" He managed eventually.

"It is, I swear by the race of men! Your mother hath banned me all these years for that same prank!"

Both elves calmed down enough for more air to enter their now tired lungs and they smiled at one another, aware of how similar they looked. "It is good that I may see you again, cousin Glorfindel."

"It is good that I may see you again also, cousin Sauron." **(2)**

************

"Arwen?" Elrohir waved a graceful hand in front of his sister's face as she stared blankly at the wall. "Arwen, Evenstar of elves, are you all right?" He pursed his lips thoughtfully when her deep blue gaze turned on him, and she smiled slightly, her face wearing a trace of bittersweet sadness and perplexity.

"I tried to tell him." She murmured, her eyes puzzled, "I tried to tell him, but the words would not come out, and now…it seems as if I cannot even direct my own wager."

What?" Elladan looked worried as he grasped her hand; shooting his twin a worried glance over his sister's head…this wasn't turning out to be his night. "What are you talking about Arwen?"

The beauty of the elves looked at him, bemusement in her very features. "This morning…Legolas told me something about a man he met…he… he said his name was Estel." The words crept almost reluctantly past her tongue, like a mouse from its nest. "I saw the love in his eyes when he spoke of this one being, but I did not think much of it, until I saw this same Estel watching him this evening." She let out a soft sigh, but one that echoed decades of suffering, "It has torn my heart, and in a moment of jealousy, I wished to make him look like a fool."

Elrohir made as if to interrupt, but his twin held up a hand warningly as Arwen continued.

"I suggested a wager, Estel should dance for us at the next such gathering and he should be helped. However, before I could part my lips to speak, it was as if I became caged in my own mind, I heard a woman's voice say to me, 'hush my child, let me talk to the king of men, and I will make him see the right path.' When I tried to respond, I could not do so, and I found that this same woman was speaking to Estel through my body." Arwen shuddered and her eyes filled with tears. "I know not what is happening!" She cried, her voice tinged with worry, and so saying, she buried her face in the front of Elladan's tunic and began to weep.

"Perhaps we should inform father of this." Elrohir said thoughtfully, his face more than a little worried as he watched his sister's shoulders shake uncontrollably. "I feel he could lend wisdom to this matter."

"No!" Arwen lifted her face to look at her brother, her wet eyes shining with adamant denial. "He warned me against loving Aragorn and yet I did not heed him, he will think only that I have brought this upon myself." She sighed and wiped away the few tears still streaking her face. "We must discover a solution ourselves…but I do not wish to hurt anyone." She sighed. 

"Love is a double edged sword." Elladan reminded her gently, "If Aragorn returns to you, will you be able to live with the knowledge that he gave up something precious, and hurt our dearest friend? If Aragorn turns his affection towards Legolas, will you be able to live without his love, and will he be able to live with the selfsame knowledge that you would have had?"

Elrohir nodded and turned to look at his sister, his face grave and wise beyond even his years. "Surely you have heard of that saying, Arwen; 'If you love something enough, let it go. If it doesn't come back, it was never yours to begin with?'" He smiled, and his expression too, was one of bittersweet melancholy that seemed to reflect the suffering of all elves. "It is like that my Evenstar, you cannot hold Aragorn for yourself, always, he must be free to choose his own path."

Elladan smoothed some hairs back from her pale face. "Go and dry your eyes, dearest sister," he said softly, "And return when you are more composed."

Arwen nodded, her eyes filling with tears once more, and her fingers clutched the fabric of one dark blue sleeve, toying with it as she crossed the room and disappeared into the shadows by the door. 

The twins watched her go, gazes thoughtful as they linked arms and moved into a quieter corner of the room. "She is hurting." Elladan said softly, his eyes never leaving the spot where his sister had vanished, "She is torn between respect for Legolas and Aragorn, and respect for her own emotions."

Elrohir sighed and rubbed one hand across his eyes. "If I had known that this ball would present so many problems, I doubt I would have come." He grumbled, almost good-naturedly, but not quite joking. "At least now we know who had so preoccupied Legolas' wits this evening." Shifting slightly, he turned to his twin, "I think it would be prudent to have a drink." He said, with no trace of humour at all, "I have the strong desire to bury all our woes in the bottom of a goblet of strong wine…and I fear this urge will only get stronger as the weeks progress."

Elladan laughed wryly and nodded. "I think I shall join you."

********

"Tell me Estel, do you not think it strange that elves have no concept of greed or lust for power?"

Aragorn threw his head back and laughed at the innocent, almost childlike question that had tumbled from the woodland elf's lips. "Aye, I do indeed." He replied, amusement still colouring his voice as pools of shadow lay about his eyes, and light from the cold moon struck his face, making him seem shadowed from view. "I do not begin to understand how creatures who have lived for so long cannot understand the rushing roar of anger that floods a man's mind, making him wish for no more than to mortally wound his enemy. I do not begin to understand how your people have survived without the need for power, for even good men long for it every so often, in the darkest pits of their hearts. I do not begin to understand how your race can feel no greed, either for possessions or flesh." He smiled, "Despite being adopted by your race, I do not begin to even pretend to understand them."

Legolas tilted his head to one side, his eyes both mischievous and curious, and Aragorn swallowed slightly, trying to ignore the elf's tempting lips. "You say possessions of the flesh, Estel, surely every creature is free in your cities, as they are here?"

"No, in the cities of men there are slaves, and when a man chooses a mate, he is bound to that person for all eternity. That is possession of the flesh."

"Ah," Legolas sighed as they continued to walk, "I believe I understand. Elves, too, choose a mate for life, but we do not have slaves…it is wrong to imprison the soul of another living creature."

"It is indeed," Aragorn agreed, "However men are hungry for possession, as I said, and they do not see it this way."

Legolas nodded as they came to an almost unconscious halt in a small clearing that was ringed with trees. Deep shadows made inky patches on the otherwise silver grass and leaves rustled as the ever-present gentle wind blew through them in small, rushing torrents. "But surely, when a man chooses his mate, _that_ at least is voluntary." He smiled, and his gaze flickered across the clearing before darting upwards to glance at the stars. "Men must fall in love as well, must they not? It is not our race alone that is bound by the pain and joy that is the joining of two souls as one, for love is a free choice."

"I disagree." Aragorn shook his head, but upon seeing Legolas's puzzled expression, he attempted to explain himself more fully. "Love is never a free choice, in any race. Love is instant and binding, yes, but all too few are ever given the choice of falling in love with another. It is something that is instantaneous and cannot be contradicted by any given force. Love is something that endures the ages and in its own way, it is as binding as the chains of any slave. Its hold is fast as the strongest lock of any dungeon."

The blond prince's eyebrows rose in astonishment. "How strangely you compare love, Estel. As though it is imprisonment? No, love is the setting free of one's emotions, like a caged songbird that has been released. It is not the enclosure of which you speak, but more a land with endless boundaries and horizons. Love is the sweetest and most tender thing."

"It may be sweet and it may be tender," Aragorn countered, "But its sweetness is that of the bitter kind. For what if you fall in love with someone who has no idea of your regard, and does not return the emotion, what then?"

"I would woo them to the very ends of this earth." Legolas said firmly, "I would make sure I was their last thought at night and their first on waking, I would pursue them even through the centuries and I would not rest until I had ensured their love was a gift to me alone." He smiled at Aragorn's expression. "Such is the nature of the love of the elves."

"Such is the nature of the love of men, also." Aragorn said, "Although my race does not seem to go about things in so delicate a manner as that of my foster kin."

"How then, would you pursue your love?" Legolas frowned, looking up at the slightly taller man, his blue eyes quizzical and holding an expression Aragorn couldn't quite put his finger on. "With songs as we do? Or flowers that have been gathered with only your love in mind?" He smiled, "Or in a less subtle manner?"

"I would take them on a moonlit walk through the realm of the elves of Rivendell." Aragorn answered, almost without thinking. He did not truly understand what he had said until he noticed the tips of Legolas' ears had turned a slightly flushed colour, and then he smiled when he saw a sudden advantage in this seemingly innocent game of wits. 

Legolas tried to remain calm, but the man's words had sparked a profound stirring in his soul, and all at once he was nervous, excited and unsure of himself, a far cry from his usual composure. "I feel that this discussion should end now, Estel." He said, with as much force as he could manage. "Come, we will return to the hall." And he turned to go.

But Aragorn grabbed his wrist and spun him around again exceedingly fast, so that, elf though he was, he nearly lost his balance. "I had not finished answering your question." The man said, a strange spark in his eyes that suddenly reminded the startled elf of burning fire. "I would the bestow upon them a kiss, to seal my affections." The man continued, and before either truly knew what was happening, he was kissing the shocked prince.

It was an experience neither would forget.

Soft lips met slightly thinner ones in a gentle caress that spoke of loving tenderness, but at the same time passionate devotion and protection. Deep blue eyes fluttered closed as large hands moved to each elbow and pulled their respective owner closer into the warm embrace. Aragorn's eyes also drifted slowly closed, as though his lids had become too heavy to keep open, and he felt the tiniest of sighs before the elf in front of him seemed to melt into his arms. For the space of a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause, as if contemplating this strangely perfect sight. The wind ceased to move, the leaves to rustle and even the stars to shimmer.

Slender arms became linked behind the man's neck as he continued to kiss the creature whose perfection both in body, soul and mind had captured him from the very first moment their eyes had met in the clearing only that morning. Suddenly, and shockingly, a warm tongue gently traced the crack of his lips, and Aragorn's eyes flew open again as his lips parted in slight shock at the elf's boldness. However, they drifted closed again as the fluttering tongue gently caressed his own, not so much as an act of lust, but one of playfulness.

In the moment when both began to respond eagerly to one another they seemed to be bathed in a soft, warming glow and it was with a strange emotion that both felt a part draining into the other's soul. 

'_I'll never leave you_.'

_'I'll never be gone from your sight_.'

'_This world will be as winter without you_.'

'_I will find no joy in summer if you are not by my side._'

Legolas frowned, even as continued to kiss Aragorn. The words were echoing around his head, the voices sounding strangely like his own and that of the man's, but at the same time, they were very different, older, almost wiser, with a strangely unreal quality to them that spoke of a timelessness. 

Slowly, they both parted, lips still gently nudging against one another as foreheads rested together, noses almost touching and nearly cross-eyed as they tried to look at one another.

"I see that in some ways, men _are_ as subtle as elves." Legolas managed eventually, smiling slightly as his fingers played in the dark hair at the base of Aragorn's neck. "It would appear that you are as courteous in your kissing as any one of us." He smiled, and licked his lips slightly, blue eyes catching a stray ray of moonlight that seemed to make them glow.

Aragorn laughed softly, and reluctantly stepped back, allowing his companion some room. "It would seem so." He agreed softly, and his hand reached out, almost of its own volition to stroke one pale cheek. "And now, Prince of Mirkwood, you have learnt how I would woo someone I cared for…very much."

Legolas looked hard for a second into the depths of grey eyes, and what he read there made him smile. "It would seem that you also have learnt how I would receive a plea for my affections, son of men." He smiled, "But now, I feel our presence will be missed if we were to remain here much longer. It is far safer for us to be back in the hall, for the night is growing old in her passing."

Aragorn nodded, and they both began to walk back in the direction of the merry making, pausing only occasionally to stop and look at one another for brief seconds in newly found wonder of what had passed so quickly and so suddenly, and seemed now to fill up the whole of their respective worlds.

And only the rustling of the grass marked their passing.

********

Arwen had searched high and low for Aragorn, but she had not found him.

She had just returned to her room, and was beginning to ready herself for bed, when outside her open window, the trees began to sing. The forest seemed to resound with some hidden joy, and as she rushed to her balcony, she heard what it was talking of and she smiled, for it was singing about the joining of two souls, and this was something that was regarded as special, even by Elven standards.

As she stood there smiling, though, a sudden pain lanced through her heart and she dropped to her knees, shaking as she pressed one now trembling hand to her chest. Her head became bowed, as if a giant force was bending it and she panted for breath, struggling to maintain some sort of composure. 

After a few brief moments, the pain subsided, but the thought that had echoed in her head, did not.

'And so it has begun…' 

_To Be Continued…_

**(1)** Not literally cousin, it can be an endearment or term of respect as well. 

**(2)** No, you did _not_ read that wrong! Sauron is an elf. Now, I know this is not keeping with the time line and situations set by Tolkien, but that's why it's an AU!

**CB:** Well, you can all thank the reviewer who asked me to put in more 'Aragorn/Legolas', for the little kiss scene…besides, it's about time something happened anyway, isn't it? Reviewers are all adored beyond belief, thank you to everyone, and in particular Estel_Elf, who drew me a fantastic fan art…loved it, hope more come because they make my day even more than reviews *hint, hint, nudge, nudge* and they'll all be popped on my site…which WILL be up eventually. (People who draw fan art will also have this fic dedicated to them, oooooh, great prize *sighs* well, I've tried…)

Many thanks to all!

Cobalt


	4. Chapter Four

**CB:** Wow, thank you everyone! *Stares happily at all her reviews* I'm still in shock because of all of them!

**Seth:** *Clears throat* Right, we have an announcement to make.

**CB:** Uh huh, since you've all been really wonderful to me, I want to thank you all, so I've decided the first person to be the 100th reviewer (and that includes e-mail!) will get a picture! *Looks embarrassed* Well it was all I could come up with on short notice…

**Osirus:** *Rolls his eyes* Yeah…

Elaría padded down the long corridor, rubbing her eyes as she did so. It had been a long night, not least of all because she's been entertaining so many people at once, whilst keeping an eye on the princess _and_ making sure Elrohir and Elladan didn't offend anyone. 

Turning a corner she sighed, wearily rubbing a hand across her eyes and brushing several strands of blond hair out of violet eyes. She was younger than all of the Elven siblings, and yet Lord Elrond himself had put her in charge of them…an honour, which few would have dreamed of. Ironically, the few who _did_ dream of it had only a very little idea of how much work had to be put in to keeping an eye on all three of them, and that wasn't including Aragorn.

Muted voices caused her to stop outside the twins' room and press her ear to the door, trying to ascertain whether it was indeed they that were inside. On recognising the voices, she smiled slightly and turned the handle, walking into the room to wish them goodnight. 

As she glanced around, she realised that they weren't in the main area, indeed, they seemed to be in one of the rooms leading off…a common enough occurrence since one or other could usually be found in the other's bed in the morning. It was something, she decided, that was ingrained in close siblings. They felt a need to be together and were not apart for longer than was necessary. **(1) **

Pattering across the cool flagstones she peered in around the door to Elrohir's bedroom and came across the familiar sight of both twins sprawled out on the bed, limbs entangled and splendid tunics no more than crumpled messes on bodies. Elrohir had his head in Elladan's lap, face turned away from the door, as the quieter twin – who was propped up against the headboard – ran his fingers through the ebony locks that spilt across the deep green of his tunic. Both were on top of the covers, but looked perfectly comfortable, indeed Elladan looked half asleep as his fingers continued to weave through dark strands.

As Elaría watched, feeling suddenly and inexplicably like an intruder, Elrohir stretched slightly, making a contented sound and twisted his head to look up at his twin.

"Headache slightly better?" Elladan enquired softly, still moving his fingers gently as he watched his twin's face.

"Mmm." Elrohir yawned and let his head fall back down, his green eyes drifting closed as his fingers clutched at the soft material of Elladan's clothing. "I wonder what happened to Arwen," He mumbled sleepily, "She never did return to the ball."

Elladan made a noise of agreement, his eyes drifting shut as well, although his hand never ceased its movement. 

Elaría was on the point of retreating, unwilling to become noticed and invade on the twins' personal moment, when Elrohir spoke again. "How are we going to sort out this mess between her, Aragorn and Legolas…there's just no solution."

Elladan's eyes opened again and he blinked down at his twin, who was beginning to purr softly because of the receding headache, making the sound that only an elf could. "I don't know." He said softly, his fingers still idly combing through his twin's hair. "We are going to have to be so careful, anyone could end up getting hurt…particularly Arwen."

"Thank Elberath I've never fallen in love," Elrohir muttered, "It sounds far too complicated and confusing."

"Mm." Elladan nodded in agreement before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his twin's forehead. "Get some sleep now." He urged gently, "Your headache will be gone by morning, and this mess will not appear as bad as it does now." He smiled as his brother muttered in agreement and burrowed his face into the front of the quieter twin's tunic, curling his long legs up under himself until he looked very much like a newborn babe with his mother, his head resting on the gently moving chest as Elladan allowed his head to drop back, so it was resting on the wood of the headboard.

"We will find a solution, won't we?" Even Elrohir's voice sounded slightly childish, lost and small, as he remained still, his eyes shut and his lips barely moving as he spoke.

"Of course we will 'rohir, of course we will."

Elaría stepped quietly back out of the room, now completely unwilling to disturb the peaceful scene and fighting the gnawing sense that she had seen something that ordinary people were not meant to. As twins they were close, and she was one of the select few that knew of their mind link…but this conversation about Aragorn, Arwen and the Mirkwood prince… it worried her more than she would have liked to admit. Slipping back out of the door and into the corridor, she crept away towards her own set of rooms, half smiling at the remembered sight of the twins looking so childish despite their age. However, the other part of her was worrying about this thorny problem.

Life, she decided, was just about to become more difficult.

********

Gimli was a dwarf that few people argued with.

His russet beard and thick eyebrows gave him an overpowering sense of presence and importance, something which few of his kin ever overlooked. He was amongst the highest in authority from his homelands, and was at the councils in Rivendell to represent his people along with two of his acquaintances. He was highly intelligent, a superior fighter and a force to be reckoned with…if ever anyone got on the wrong side of him then they should be wary of his wrath.

So why, he wondered, was he being herded down a corridor early in the morning by an upstart elf maiden to something he had had no idea he'd even agreed to do and where it was more than likely he would make a fool of himself?

"Are you _sure_ I agreed to this?" He grumbled for the seventh time, glowering up at the impassive blue eyes that looked down at him, completely unheeding to the warning growl in his voice.

"Absolutely." She said firmly, still shepherding him quickly down corridor after corridor. "You were personally requested this morning by the Princess Arwen to participate in the entertainment for the next ball." She smiled, looking slightly mischievous, "I believe it is a dance of some sort, perhaps telling a story."

That did it. Gimli dug in his heels and stared up at the calm woman in a mixture of outrage and horror. "You jest, surely?" He asked, sounding slightly panicked. "I am no dancer."

"Perhaps." She replied mildly, and before he could stop her, she had scooped him up into her arms, carried him the last few steps and thrust him into the room, slamming the door behind her.

Gimli spluttered for a moment, eyes wide behind his beard as he choked on a sense of moral outrage and disbelief. To be picked up like a piece of carrion by a vulture and deposited in much the same manner! It was an outrage, if any of his men had seen the incident, he would have been mocked until the coming of the king of Gondor…and now that he thought of it…beyond! 

Unheeding of his surroundings, he stumped back to the door and took hold of the handle, fully intending to open it and retreat immediately before his absence was missed, but he was stopped by a sweet voice.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Turning on the spot, he encountered blue eyes and a warm smile as Legolas stood up and walked towards him. "It appears we are all locked in here until Arwen's task has been announced." Smiling the elf held out a hand to the wary dwarf, who reluctantly took it, shook it quickly, and dropped it as though he had been burned. "I am Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland realm." The elf announced proudly. "This Estel of Rivendell and Boromir of Gondor, both of the race of men." The elf shot a quick look at the dark haired man that did not go unmissed by Gimli's sharp eyes, and he felt one of his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise before he turned to regard the other man called Boromir.

"Delighted to meet all of you." He said gruffly, walking further into the room, completely undaunted by the fact that they were all taller than he. "But pray, does either elf or man or steward" here he inclined a questioning look at Boromir, "know why we are imprisoned here?"

"I have an inkling." The dark haired man called Estel said, raising grey eyes to meet the hard stare of the dwarf, "I believe Arwen Evenstar wishes us to provide entertainment at the next ball, by telling the story of Beren and Lúthien." He smiled slightly as their shocked looks, "'Tis a bet." He added, his gaze flickering to each face, "She claimed that men could not dance and we are here to prove her wrong." He glanced at Boromir, who looked more than a little shocked by this announcement.

"_Dance_?" The Steward of Gondor remarked in horror, his voice panic stricken, "We will make a mockery of ourselves."

"Not so." Legolas's voice flashed through the room like the crack of a whip, and all turned to look at him. "It is easy to learn to dance, you must be willing."

"Easy for an elf to say." Gimli replied, halfway between sulky and furious, "You are all born with an innate grace and sense of movement. For the races of dwarf and man, it is not so easy."

"I must agree with our bearded friend." Boromir agreed, inclining his head in Gimli's direction, "Elves are known for their fine sense of balance and keenness with light steps." He turned to Estel, "What say you, son of Rivendell?"

Again, Gimli noticed that fleeting glance between elf and man as Estel hesitated in answering Boromir, but this time, the gaze seemed to go on for much longer, even though he appeared to be the only one to notice it. Grey eyes burned into blue ones and the elf's lips parted hungrily, allowing his tongue to flick out and wet them slightly, as though his mouth had gone dry with a simple stare. Gimli noted with interest that the dark haired Estel seemed no better off, his eyes seemed locked on those of the elf and the intensity of his look seemed to burn with fire.

Clearing his throat, the dwarf suddenly felt remarkably uncomfortable to be present in what seemed, strangely enough, an act of intimacy. "Incredibly hot in here, isn't it?" He said as pleasantly as he could to Boromir, shifting the man's attention away from the odd couple, "I wonder if the sun is as warm in the council room."

Boromir blinked, also looking away from the man and elf, who had still not moved. "Yes," He said, obviously grateful for a distraction, even if it was only from a dwarf, "I feel almost lucky to be out of Lord Elrond's presence for the day." He laughed slightly, "I swear that lord sees everything, not least straight into a man's heart."

Gimli nodded sagely, and moved across the room to sit down next to the man, just as the door opened to admit Elaría, closely followed by the twins. The dwarf noticed that immediately, the Steward of Gondor's eyes strayed to the lithe form of the elf woman, who was today clad in a pure white tunic that came down to mid thigh, allowing freedom of movement, and her hair was bound back in a tight ponytail.

The twins were resplendent in deep blue tunics, and completely indistinguishable from one another, right down to their hair, which was caught by two small braids, much like Legolas's, but circled around their heads like crowns.

Immediately, Estel broke his gaze with the blond elf to look at the twins. "Elrohir, Elladan!" He cried in delight, rushing over to both of them with the eagerness of a child, despite his years. "It is good to see you again."

Elrohir chuckled slightly, embracing the taller man with an enthusiasm shared by his twin. "It is good to see you as well…but we _were_ at the ball last night." He smiled mischievously, before remarking with a great show if innocence, "Perhaps you were distracted? I did not see you towards the end." His expression showed nothing but open curiosity, but his gaze flickered slyly to the side, and Gimli noted that it landed on Legolas, who was now looking out of one window.

"Elrohir, enough." Elaría said sharply, her expression firm, and to the dwarf's astonishment, the son of the king of Rivendell had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

"Yes Elaría." He said meekly, but a small spark in his eyes warned the dwarf that his teasing towards Estel was far from over.

Elaría looked at him suspiciously for a moment before turning to regard the rest of the strange group that was assembled in the large, airy room. "You have all been summoned here at Princess Arwen of Rivendell's request." She began, "You must all participate in a performance of dance at the next ball, which will be held in three weeks. I am to teach you the movements and the separate dances before teaching you to dance with one another." Here, Gimli swallowed hard, looking up at the men who were twice his size. "The tale you will be telling is that of Beren and Lúthien, and the Lady Arwen had told me to give you your parts directly." Elaría smiled at the worried expressions on everyone's faces before she turned to Estel. "You will play Beren, Legolas, you will be Lúthien." Behind her, one of the twins stifled a small snicker. "Gimli son of Glóin, you will be King Belanon and Boromir Steward of Gondor you will be Amenon, Beren's brother."**(2)** She smiled, lifting her chin slightly. "The twins will be helping me instruct you, and I will be playing Queen Helá…any questions?"

A stunned silence met her, and before anyone could protest, she clapped her hands together. "Excellent, now, we will begin with simple steps. Elrohir, come here."

Obediently one of the twins stepped forward and took his place at her right hand side. "Are we demonstrating the dance steps, dear one?" he asked quietly as she held out her hand to him.

"No." Elaría smiled in motherly affection at him, "You and Elladan will have to do that later, for I cannot make sure they are observing and copying the steps correctly _and_ demonstrate. We are going to show them a few simple steps…follow my lead." Carefully she laid her hand on top of his, swinging them around in a brief circle before releasing his hand stepping on the tips of her toes in the opposite direction before leaning back in a graceful arch until she could actually see Elrohir looking at her from upside down. Lightly she straightened before flicking her arms around to make her turn half circle as Elrohir moved with a dancer's surety back towards her, clasping both her hands this time and lifting her with only the support of their joined hands. They held the position, her head held high, back arched like a swan's and Elrohir looking up at her for a brief moment before she dropped back to land on her feet with a small thump and looked at the group.

"Thank you Elrohir." She smiled at the elf who smiled back at her before stepping back to join his twin, who had watched. "Do you see immediately how the smallest movement can imply more than many words? That is why dance is so unique; everything you do will convey a world of meaning to the observer. That is what you must master, beginning with basic steps."

All four, two men, an elf and a dwarf, nodded eagerly and with more interest than they were willing to admit, lined up to stand in front of Elaría to begin to copy her movements. 

********

Legolas stretched tiredly, wincing as his aching muscles pulled, screaming in protest. "There is more to dancing than I had imagined." He commented to Elladan, who was standing nearby, "It is exhausting work!"

The green-eyed elf nodded in agreement, his face thoughtful. "Not many people appreciate how much of an exercise it is to dance." He commented, "Often dancers are much stronger than warriors." He smiled and patted the blond archer on a shoulder, "My best advice is to go and bathe, preferably in extremely hot water, it will ease you muscles." He glanced up as Elrohir padded over, also wincing and complaining of exhaustion. "Hold your tongue brother." He cautioned as Elrohir found a particularly sore point in the small of his back and uttered a few choice oaths that carried across the room. "If Elaría hears you saying things like that…"

"Pray, tell me Elladan, why do you treat Elaría with so much respect. She is just a maid, and younger than you at that…why pander to her every whim?" Legolas turned curious blue eyes on both twins, who glanced at one another, lips tightening. "Does she simply have your father's favour?"

Elrohir burst out laughing before Elladan could stop him, "Nay, 'tis not that!" He said, between gasps of mirth, "Far from it, in fact. Arwen brought Elaría back home with her from Lórien; we have been unable to manage without her since. She keeps all our secrets and is our utmost confidant, but she is strict. Father respects her, and appointed her to guard us, but she seems to have taken it more upon herself to be our nursemaid than anything else." He smiled, laughter subsiding, "She is like a maid, sister and warrior all rolled into one."

"Warrior?" Legolas frowned, looking questioningly at the elf, "But surely she does not fight?"

"She does indeed." Elladan interrupted, glancing over to where Elaría was going over several steps with Boromir, her pale skin showing white against his darker tunic. "Do not be deceived by her appearance…but surely Aragorn has told you of her before now?"

"Aragorn? I have not met him yet." The Mirkwood prince looked puzzled as he glanced from one twin to the other. "I have not even seen him at the council."

"Ah," Elrohir interrupted smoothly, "We must be mistaken, we thought you would surely have met Isildur's heir by now." He shot a warning look at Elladan before turning back to Legolas, "Surely you have heard our sister speak of him so much, you feel you already know him?" He laughed and his twin and their guest joined in.

"Aye, I do indeed." He agreed, but his gaze flickered across the room to where Estel was conversing with Gimli. "Excuse me, won't you?" So saying, he stepped gracefully around the twins and moved swiftly across the room to talk to the dark haired man.

"Idiot!" Elrohir hissed at Elladan, "I swear, sometimes you have the sense of my horse. You _know_ Legolas is not aware of who Estel is." He frowned in a rare moment of annoyance with his kin. "You nearly caused a disaster!"

"I am sorry." Elladan did indeed look contrite, his green eyes were worried and he was biting his lip, frowning as he did so. "I forgot that Legolas is not aware…"

"Yes, you forgot, and it nearly cost all of us! Honestly El, sometimes I don't think you have the brains you were born with!" This harsh sentence was softened by the childhood nickname, and Elladan sank gracefully to the floor in a sitting position, pulling his irate twin with him. Both leant back against the wall, and watched the couple and the dwarf in the far corner.

"What are we going to do? We still have no real solution."

"We'll think of something," Elrohir promised, resting his head on his twin's shoulder, "We have to."

********

Elrond was alone in his room, quietly enjoying a goblet of wine after another day at the council, when a voice echoed in his head, making him start slightly and put the cup down, leaning forward intently.

"Dear son in law, that time we spoke of has arrived."

"Dear mother in law," The king replied, his voice courteous, "Are you sure?"

"I have looked in the mirror," Galadriel's voice sounded slightly sad, "And I have seen it. I looked into their futures and saw death. It will happen dearest one and there is nothing any of us can do to prevent it." 

"Arwen's death?" Elrond leapt to his feet, knocking the table over in his worry, composure gone. "Is my daughter to die by the hand of a man and his lover?"

"No, it is not Arwen who will die, so do not fear on her account. However, she is now an instrument of fate…the spirit is restless, is has begun to take control of her to aid its work." There was the soft rustle of cloth, as though Galadriel was now sitting down. "It is determined not to repeat the events that happened before."

"_The_ spirit, are you sure?" Elrond's voice trembled slightly.

"Quite sure, dear one. These events mirror ones that happened many millennia ago…in ages far gone from the minds of men and indeed, most elves." Galadriel sighed, and quite suddenly, she sounded much older. "Watch out for all of them, Elrond, for it will not take much to harm any of them…particularly the blond archer from Mirkwood."

"Legolas?" Elrond asked sharply, "It is Legolas who is involved in this?"

"Yes, and you must watch him closely for it will not take much to push him out of the light…indeed, he is already beginning to fade from the pure mindedness of which we all hold. Soon, so very soon, he will be made an offer he will not refuse if you are not careful." There was a sigh, "He is willing to be tainted, son in law, one might even call him eager for it, for only when he is tainted can he and Aragorn be truly one. But it is a path they alone must choose. In the meantime, watch your sons, they are also important."

"You ask a lot, lady of the woods."

"That is because I expect a lot from you, Lord of Rivendell."

********

Legolas glanced around; he and Estel were the only ones left in the large, light room. The man was standing in much the same place that he had earlier, looking out of the window and over the grass to the small copse of trees that stood, their branches bowing gracefully to one another, much like dancers themselves in the wind.

Quietly the blond archer moved across the room, until he was standing no more than a hair's breadth behind the commanding figure that was silhouetted by winter sunlight. "Estel…what are you thinking?" One pale hand came up to lightly touch the back of the taller man's head, fingers gently stroking the dark hair. 

Estel sighed and turned around, catching the questing hand and clasping it to his chest. "I was thinking," He began slowly, grey eyes serious, "How less than two days ago I was a poor man with no hope…and now," He smiled, and it seemed to the besotted elf that the entire room lit up, "…and now, I am the richest man to ever grace this earth, and the most lucky." Gently, his other hand came up to touch golden wheat coloured hair, "Hewath alí kereth." (I am blessed indeed) he murmured softly as the elf gave a small sigh, lips parting slightly.

"Look at us," the prince of Mirkwood managed after a brief moment of stillness, "We are acting like children in love for the first time." He smiled and stepped back slightly. "Scarcely two days, as you said, have we known each other, Estel, and yet within those two days, there has been much change in both of us." He smiled, "But perhaps that is not necessarily a bad thing."

Estel laughed and closed the gap between them again, grabbing the startled elf's hands and swinging him around in a small circle before dipping him backwards. "Indeed it is not, youngest prince of Mirkwood." Before the other could reply, he began planting little kisses along the straight eyebrows, down the straight nose and finally on the full yet determined lips.

Legolas laughed breathlessly, riding on a strange wave of euphoria, giddiness and joy. "Estel…stop…" He begged between peals of laughter, "Or we will never return to the hall in time for the evening meal." His love appeared to take no notice, pausing only to kiss him more firmly on the lips before returning to planting soft kisses on his face. "I mean it…surely you are not so brave that you will miss nourishment after this exhausting day?" As if in answer, there was a soft rumble from one of their stomachs…although neither could be sure which it was. "You see?" Legolas demanded breathlessly, holding a hand up to Estel's face, pushing him back slightly and standing upright once more. "We will faint from lack of food."

The man pulled a face, but it was with humour in his grey eyes that he nodded. "Very well, I would not wish to be held accountable for the most handsome elf of all realms to fall faint on me." A mischievous quirk of the mouth warned Legolas that the man was about to tease him. "But surely you are not so weak that you would faint from a little starvation, that is womanly!"

Legolas let out a gasp of indignation and raised his fists in mock fury. "How dare you even suggest such a thing!" He forced a look of fury onto his face and turned to look at the insolent man. "I am a warrior, not a damsel." To prove his point, he reached for one of the curved daggers than always remained strapped around his waist, and with a flick of his wrist, it was brought to rest at the base of the dark haired man's throat. "Now do you believe I am strong?" He teased, all pretence of anger gone.

"Perhaps." Estel said cryptically, and with a flick of his own wrist, the blade was removed, and Legolas was halfway to falling to the floor. Before he reached the hard ground, however, his cat like reflexes kicked in, allowing him to twist his body, using the momentum to his advantage and he landed with a soft thump, his legs stretched on the ground in a perfect split. Before Estel could react, the elf had leapt back to his feet, and the blade was heading towards his throat once more. But as the man moved to dodge its arch, one slender leg swept around the backs of his knees and made him fall ungracefully to the ground. Immediately the elf was crouching over him, on leg on either side of his body, breath coming slightly faster than usual as the gleaming point of the dagger scant centimetres from bare skin.

Estel's eyes were wide as he looked up into the cool blue ones of the elf. "You are truly a warrior Legolas." He managed, nodding his head slightly in acknowledgement. 

The elf laughed and stood up, offering one hand to the man, who took it and stood up easily. "I thank you…but come, we will have time for these pleasantries later…right now there is a meal that has my name inscribed on it."

They both laughed and were stepping out of the door when light footfalls caught their attention. It was Arwen, who seemed to have been running as she was breathless, her hair not in its usual state of neatness. "Legolas!" She cried on seeing him, and not noticing the man just behind him, "There you are. How was your first lesson?" Not pausing to hear the answer, she rushed on. "Have you see Lord Aragorn, my father wishes to speak to him?"

"Nay, not I." Legolas replied promptly, "Perhaps he is out walking…" But the rest of his sentence was never finished as Arwen peered past him, her chest still rising and falling rapidly from running and caught sight of Aragorn.

"There you are Aragorn, my father wishes to speak to you!" She extended one hand past Legolas, unheeding that the blond elf had just frozen on the spot.

"What did you call Estel?" He asked sharply, gripping Arwen's outstretched arm.

"Aragorn." She replied, seemingly puzzled, "But I suppose he _is_ named Estel as well…for that is his adopted elvish name." She smiled, "It means hope." She added.

The ground buckled beneath Legolas' feet.

_To Be Continued…_  

**(1)** This is actually true, particularly in twins, they have this ingrained sense of togetherness that often means they prefer to sleep in each other's company…something about being in the womb together I think. *Shrugs* I'm no doctor.

**(2)** No, these characters don't exist, since I can't remember if Beren's father was ever even _mentioned_ I made them up.

**CB:** Ok I admit it, I'm evil…leaving it like that. But I can promise, THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING! (But not for many more chapters, ok?) I will start thanking people in the next chapter, because you're all so wonderful!


	5. Chapter Five

**CB:** Many thanks to all who reviewed, you'll be properly showered with love and attention at the end of the chapter! ^_~

**_Dedication:_**_ I've decided to dedicate this to Makiko Igami, whose writing is just beyond cool. Her fics are here (well, one is) and on Mediaminer.org…go read, they're worth the time and effort, she's great! *Waves at Makiko who seems to have been one of her most faithful reviewers ever* This is for you now! _

Legolas's expression froze, as the world seemed to spin several times, very fast before coming sharply back into focus, as his gaze landed on Arwen's upturned face. "This…this is Aragorn?" he asked, his tone of voice bordering on disbelief, "This is the one you told me about?" A small part of his mind pointed out that he was being tactless, but the rest of him was too focused on Arwen's reply to try a less direct route to the information he wanted.

"Yes." Arwen's puzzled expression changed to one of sheer horror in a split second as she suddenly began to realise what she had just said. Her face went pale, becoming almost luminous in the lights of the torches that lined the corridor as she opened her mouth again, fingers trembling as she let her hand slip off of her friend's arm. "Oh…sweet Valar, I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…oh NO!" Her voice echoed off the ceiling and bounced down the corridor as she shrieked the last word, her face a picture of utmost guilt, regret and panic. "I…no…I…I…" She stumbled to a halt, her voice fading away as she took in Legolas's pale face and Aragorn's puzzled expression.

"Legolas, are you feeling well?" The man looked hard at the Mirkwood Prince, "You are as pale as a ghost." He frowned, glancing at Arwen, "What is the matter?"

Legolas heard Estel's…no, _Aragorn's_ voice as if from a long way off. Forcing himself to look up, he glanced into worried grey eyes and forced his lips into a smile that made him feel nauseous. "I am well…Aragorn…but please forgive me, I have suddenly remembered something to which I must attend." He turned to the guilty Evenstar, "Lady Arwen, perhaps you would accompany me for a moment?" Without waiting for her reply, he gripped her arm and moved swiftly off down the corridor, his face still frozen in a terrible smile, leaving a very confused and rather worried Aragorn behind.

As they rounded a corner, he turned to her, blue eyes revealing pain beyond comprehension…even to Arwen. "Why did you not tell me?" He hissed, his voice hiding none of his despair and anger, "You _knew_, all this time, you knew that Estel was…" His voice trailed off and he gritted his teeth together in a sudden burst of anger, making Arwen steps back; her expression alarmed. "_Why didn't you tell me?_" His lips were thinned into a tight line, his face lined with fury and despair as he waited for her answer.

"I thought…" Arwen began, raising one shaking hand to touch her pale throat, "I thought I was mistaken." She managed eventually. Pleadingly she looked up into the cold of eyes of an elf she had known from childhood. "Please…_Galadh_, please, I thought I was wrong, I did not believe…" She swallowed and looked down, "I am sorry." She whispered.

As Legolas looked at her, he felt a momentary pang of sympathy; he and Arwen were more similar than he had believed. They had both fallen for the same man, both pulled under his spell of innocent seduction, so similar and yet so different. '_But did Es…Aragorn…ever treat her the way he treated me?'_ Unconsciously, finger came up to trace lightly over soft lips as he remembered the feel of the man's mouth on his own. A bittersweet shadow now…and yet…and yet…

"Arwen." Legolas' voice was calmer now as he took hold of the princess's chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Why did you deliberately throw us together in this bet?" He frowned slightly, looking more puzzled than angry now. "Particularly if you were worried I would steal your man away from you."

"I don't know." Arwen's voice sounded frustrated and closer to tears than he'd heard for a long time. "It just…happened." She shifted slightly, waving her hand as she tried to explain what she'd told Elrohir and Elladan earlier the previous night. "It wasn't me," she managed finally, "It was someone else…someone up here." She touched her temple lightly, trying to explain. "It was a voice, it had the power to make me say things I didn't want to." She smiled, slightly sadly. "_Galadh_, we have known one another for a long time…the friendship of the elves is sometimes even stronger than that of love…" Her voice shook slightly, but her eyes were steady and she held her head high. "Elrohir and Elladan bade me from my folly last night. Let us not fight over Aragorn, the choice is _his_ to make. We cannot quarrel over his affections if it is hopeless." She cupped a hand around her friend's cheek, "Let the man decide." She said quietly.

The blond archer's lips tightened momentarily before he nodded once. "So be it, Aragorn will decide, and we will neither pressure him nor ask him to decide when _we_ so wish." Abruptly he turned and walked swiftly down the corridor, not looking back towards one of his oldest friends who was still standing there, silent tears streaming down her pale face.

********

Elladan tapped his fingers against the wooden table in the corner of Elrohir's room. Sighing, he glanced at his twin out of the corner of his eye. Elrohir was oblivious to his boredom instead, he was quietly sharpening his dagger with the intense precision that comes from a warrior reared from birth to care for his weaponry.

_Tap, tap, tap_. Elladan sighed again, shifting some of the papers that lay scattered on the polished surface as his fingers drummed a staccato. '_I wonder what everyone else is doing?_' He thought gloomily, green eyes wandering back to his brother's form again, '_Probably enjoying a good deal more entertainment that I am_.' He added sourly, almost as an after thought. _'I wonder when Haldir is arriving with the halflings we were promised would be coming to the councils._' His fingers continued to move restlessly, short fingernails making sharp clicking noises against the hard surface of the table as he scowled in Elrohir's general direction. _'Do **I** look that focused when I'm tending my weapons?'_ He wondered, pausing his rhythm for a brief moment to take a closer look at his twin's face. _'He looks as though he is preparing for battle!_' A small snort escaped his mouth, making Elrohir look up.

Green eyes met their twin's across the room and Elrohir's lips curved into a small smile as he put the dagger down and stood up, stretching. A shaft of sunlight fell across his light white shirt, softly illuminating the body beneath and showing a wiry but strong frame that befitted one of the Elven people. Dark hair was highlighted from behind, creating a certain radiance in the ebony locks and Elladan grinned appreciatively as his twin padded across the room to stop in front of him.

"Bored already?" His twin asked, mischief sharply highlighting his features.

Elladan sighed pitifully and also stood up. "My brother," He said, resting his hand briefly on his twin's shoulder, "If I were any _more_ bored, I would willingly submit to sitting on one of father's councils, simply to stop myself from losing what few wits I have managed to retain!" He smiled as Elrohir laughed before squeezing his twin's shoulder briefly and releasing it. "Is there nothing we can do?" He asked pitifully, "If I stay in this room a moment longer…I shall go mad with boredom."

Elrohir looked thoughtful as he stared at the ceiling. "Well," He said finally, "We could always go…"

"…Riding." Elladan finished with a smile. "My brother, our minds think very much alike; but you are right, riding would be a relief from this drudgery." He indicated the room with a sweep of his hand, "I am sick of these same walls."

"Why not go to your own room then?" His twin suggested mischievously.

"Elrohir!"

The other twin sighed in mock tragedy, "Oh very well, we'll go riding." He said, trying to look put upon and failing because his eyes were dancing in his face.

Thirty minutes later the twins were clattering out through one of the side gates, Elladan mounted on a dapple-grey mare and Elrohir on a chestnut stallion. Both wore green riding habits and soft leather belts, into which were strapped the newly sharpened knives. The air was cool, more than a hint of winter in its temperature, and the sky was covered with ominous looking clouds that showed inky black. Gusts of wind moved over the land and through the forests, rustling grass, leaves, branches and hair as the twins pounded down the narrow trail that wound throughout the wooded area.

"'Tis not so pleasant a day as I first believed." Elladan shouted over the pounding hooves of the horses and the whistling wind.

"No." Elrohir agreed loudly, "I believe we may see the first rain today."

"Aye, and be caught in it!"

Elrohir laughed and pulled his mount to a halt, the horse's flanks heaving as its breath puffed out in clouds of steam in the cold air. Looking around, he remarked, "Well, we are far enough into this forest that if it does rain, it is likely we will be protected from the worst of it." He shot a sly glance at his twin, "Unless you are too delicate for a bit of water."

To his surprise, Elladan did not answer; instead, his eyes seemed fixed on a point near one of the large oak trees that grew in the forest. His green eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted as his mount shifted restlessly, dancing on the spot as she, too, eyed the same place. Puzzled, Elrohir glanced towards where both horse and elf were looking and felt his own mouth fall open in surprise, just as there was an ominous crack of thunder and the sudden pattering sound of a sheet of rain falling from the sky.

Both twins were instantly soaked to the skin, but neither noticed as the elf woman smiled at them. She seemed luminous, even in the gloom of the forest and her hair was woven into a long, gold plait that fell down her back. Her blue eyes seemed to shine with an internal light and her simple white dress and blood red cloak only served to enhance her beauty.

"Hail twins of Rivendell." She said, by way of greeting, her voice grave as she looked from one to the other. "Fortunate is our meeting in this place."

"Hail, lady." Both twins replied in unison, and to Elrohir, it felt as though his mouth was functioning without the use of his brain, which did not seem to be working in the usual manner.

"Long have I walked these woods in the hope of speaking to _one_ of the house of Elrond, and instead, I am granted two." A pale hand lifted in a silent gesture of acceptance, the elf's fingers delicately spread as she turned the hand palm upwards, almost in invitation. Both horses snorted and stamped their feet, shying slightly from this strange visitor as their riders sat motionless, identical expressions of confusion and suspicion on their faces.

"Who are you?" Elrohir managed, but the words had to be forced out of his mouth, and they came out very unwillingly, like the slow trickle of treacle. "What do you want with us?"

The woman smiled slightly, the edges of her mouth curling up as she looked at the slightly taller twin. "Elrohir of Rivendell, just is your question, but unjustly must I answer it. I am no one. No one is my name now, and no one is my company. I have lost all that made me and retain only that which fed my desire for a short while." Her eyes held infinite sadness, "Long have I watched my children thrive in this place and long have I desired to walk among them once more." She stepped nearer to the horse, and without warning, reached up and tangled a hand in Elrohir's hair, pulling him awkwardly down to face level as she looked into his eyes, her free hand tracing his features. "So similar," She whispered softly, her voice no more than a breath of wind, but one both twins heard clearly, "So similar and yet so different." Gently she traced his lips with one finger before releasing him and looking at Elladan with a smile. "Your emotion betrays you." She remarked softly to the other twin.

Elladan shot her a surprised look, but said nothing, although his lips tightened, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Elrohir, who looked slightly confused. "What do you want?" He repeated again, more to direct attention back to himself and relieve his twin's embarrassment than anything else. However, when the blue eyes drilled into him, he felt himself shrinking back from the calm gaze.

"To tell you." The woman's voice sounded like the sighing wind, her face still unbearably beautiful and sad.

"To tell us what?" Elrohir's own voice was no more than a whisper as he leant forward on his horse, eyes intent on the woman's visage. "What do you want to inform us of?"

"Danger." The woman's beautiful eyes flickered from one face to another and back again, "There is danger in this land. It walks abroad masked as a friend, it slips unnoticed through the crowds in your house, it spreads poisonous lies and deceit wherever it goes…and all the time it is searching…searching for the one who can fulfil its needs and desires." Her voice grew deeper as she looked at both of them, "It is close to finding its victim."

There was another, sudden clap of thunder, much louder than the first, and Elladan's horse (already skittish) reared, throwing its rider to the ground. Elrohir's head snapped around as his twin's head hit the unforgiving earth with a dull thump, and before he could think, he had thrown himself out of his own saddle and had dropped to his knees next to his twin.

"El…" he whispered, placing a pale hand on the wet forehead, "El, are you alright?"

He received no reply, and when he peered closer, he saw that Elladan had been knocked unconscious. 

Biting his lip, Elrohir gently scooped the warm body up and, cradling it in his arms, looked around for the red-cloaked woman, wanting to ask her for assistance. His gaze only met with dripping trees, soaking turf and a steady stream of rain that fell from the sky, soaking everything that it touched.

The woman had vanished.

********

Elaría pulled the hood of her cloak further over her face to protect it from the rain and swore under her breath as she peered about in the darkening twilight, looking for any sign of the twins.

Water dripped off the hem of her hood and cloak as she impatiently paced by the main gate, her footfalls light on the stone paved surface as she kept looking down the main path through Rivendell hoping for some sign of her charges. The guards posted at the gate exchanged looks, their expression identical: a mixture of worry and apprehension. Elaría had been known to vent her anger on innocent bystanders when she was frustrated, and they were directly in the line of fire.

One of the guards ventured a nervous cough. "My lady, maybe it would be better if you waited inside, out of the cold…"

The words had barely left his mouth when Elaría rounded on him, her expression grim and her eyes spitting fury. "Idiot! Why should I wait indoors when the heirs to the throne are out there somewhere in this storm? I don't deserve the comfort of a warm building when I was foolish enough to allow them to slip away without me noticing!" Her lips were drawn into a thin line as she spoke, her fingers clenched into balled fists, but just as it seemed likely she would hit the guard, there was the clattering of hooves from further up the street.

Immediately Elaría spun around, eyes intent on the falling rain and the shape that seemed to be coming out of it. Blurring, wobbling slightly and wavering between the droplets, it eventually formed itself into a thoroughly soaked Elrohir, mounted on his horse and leading Elladan's. Elaría strained her eyes, and managed to make out something slung across the back of the chestnut stallion as it came to a standstill in front of her, allowing its rider to slide from the saddle and pick the other shape up, cradling it close to his body.

"Elrohir!" The elf woman's voice lashed across the intervening space and the guards noted with some interest that even Elrond's son flinched back from her angry tone. "Just _what_ did you think you were doing?" She cried, storming across the flagstones towards him, making the older elf take a small step back, leaning against his horse as if for reassurance. "It's _wet_, it's _cold_, it's _thundering_ and YOU think you can WALTZ out of here for a little jaunt with your brother!"  Elaría's voice rose to a shriek as she scolded him. "If it hadn't been for a halfling that spotted you leaving, I would have been out of my _mind_ with worry. Do you have any _idea_ what you've just put me through?" She paused as her brain seemed to catch up with her mouth, and she glanced around. "Where is Elladan?" She demanded sharply, "He should be here…where is he?"

"Here." Elrohir said reluctantly, offering the cradled shape in his arms, although the guards saw that he kept his brother clutched tightly to his breast, as if afraid that once he let go, Elladan would vanish. Indeed, the elf lord seemed paler than usual, and his eyes kept flitting back down to the still form of his twin. "He fell from his horse."

"He did WHAT?" Elaría's voice had reached such a high pitch that all the other elves visibly winced as she reached out one hand to smooth the hood of Elladan's cloak back from his face so she could peer at him. "He is very pale, and unconscious." She announced, before looking up, her gaze meeting Elrohir's. "What happened to him?" 

"I…" Elrohir opened his mouth to tell the truth and instead, found himself saying something quite different, "…I don't know." He said, his eyes coolly meeting his supervisor's, "I only arrived after he had fallen." He shrugged, with difficulty because he was still clutching Elladan. "He seems to have hit his head on something…his horse was nearby and I put her in a train with my own." Green eyes flickered to the guards, who immediately tried to wipe the interested looks off their faces and simply stared ahead. "I will place him in our rooms and tend to him." He announced, gaze coming back to rest on Elaría's upturned face.

She pursed her lips and said nothing, simply waving a hand at one of the guards to come and relieve Elrohir of his burden; but the prince snarled silently as the other elf tried to take his brother, and instead of releasing him ended up clutching him even more tightly. "_Mine_." He hissed angrily, upper lip curling slightly to reveal strong white teeth. There was a moment of shocked silence during which only the rain could be heard, before Elaría shrugged. 

"Very well, take him to your rooms." She said, before sweeping back towards the main door of the palace. Her outwards calm seemed unbreakable, but inside, she was shocked. Elrohir had never behaved like that before, and she was more than a little surprised that Elladan had been unhorsed, it took a great deal to throw an elf.

'_Something's going on here_.' She thought grimly.

********

Legolas had always been taught that a good politician never showed his true emotions. A good politician should always lie, cheat and even steal if necessary…this was perhaps why he'd never made a very good one in his own opinion. On the other hand, he had an amazing talent to keep any feelings from showing on his face which countered perfectly with his warm and understanding nature, making other people _want_ to confide in him…this was why everyone else thought he was a _good_ politician. 

His talent was serving him very well as he walked calmly down a hallway lined with torches. Outside, he was presenting a calm, collected aura that served to reassure yet discourage anyone who wished to speak to him. Inside, he was a screaming, gibbering wreck. He longed to smash something into pieces, cry, scream, wail and generally make a very large scene…and yet he knew this wasn't possible.

_'Arwen and Aragorn…even their names sound as though they should be written in the stars together.'_ He thought miserably, '_How could I have been so stupid? I saw Arwen's expression when I spoke of Estel, she was shocked, worried and I…being the fool that I am….ignored her completely in favour of an unobtainable dream. It is far better that I learnt Estel's true identity now, rather than later, when I may have fallen seriously in love with him._' His heart gave a sudden lurch, fluttering like a bird and he stumbled, falling hard against a wall.

"Steady there!" A low voice said from somewhere to his left, and he felt slender hands gripping his elbow, "Are you well?"

"I…yes…" The Elven prince managed to croak, although his chest was heaving, and spots seemed to be dancing in front of his eyes, "I am perfectly well, I assure you."

"Nay, you do not look it!" The voice commented with a hint of laughter in its tone, "Come, where are your chambers and I will help you back to them so that you may rest."

Legolas seemed to hear everything from a long way off as he stared hard at the cold flagstones, willing the pain, which had suddenly blossomed in his heart, to vanish. When it did not, he forced himself to say. "Five corridors down, eleventh door on the right." His jaw was clenched tightly as he gripped the unknown saviour's arms, trying to walk on his own and failing. _'Curse it!'_ He thought miserably, _'I am usually strong…what is the matter with me?_' Blue eyes widened as he felt himself being swept along a corridor, but he saw nothing. _'I am a fool!'_ He wailed inwardly, sounding much like a child, _'I see it now, as plain as the fact that I cannot have him…it is already serious. I am beyond aid. It is true that my kin die of only two things and I appear to have caught one of the diseases that robs us of our life. Ah, my heart has finally betrayed me in favour of another.'_ He sighed, _'There is no cure save for love in return, and with the Evenstar's affection, what man would turn to an elf such as I for love?'_

He half felt himself being laid down on a bed and the soothing voice saying, "I will be back to check on you at the fifth watch." Before there was the sound of receding footsteps, the quiet click of a large oak door and then silence.

Legolas lay on his back with his blue eyes open, and saw nothing.

********

Aragorn wished he'd been allowed to wear his sword around the palace.

If he'd had his sword on, he concluded as he glared angrily at the poor guard he was currently interrogating, none of this would be necessary. He could have made the usual threats and been into the room in only half the time it was taking to bribe, wheedle, intimidate and beg his way in to see Arwen.

It wasn't as if he even _wanted_ to see her particularly, more that he wanted to understand the clearly significant conversation he had been a witness but not party to this morning. Something had happened, that much he was sure of, and since then, he had been able to find neither Arwen nor Legolas. In fact, he'd only just heard that the Evenstar was back in her room, and he had hastened there in the hope of enlightenment.

"Look," He said as patiently as possible, eyeing the elf who was a good two inches taller than himself, "I am willing to pay whatever it takes to get in there."

"I am sorry my lord," The other answered respectfully, "But my lady's instructions were to allow nobody in, not even you, sir." The elf saw Aragorn's disbelieving look and decided to correct himself. "_Especially_ not you, sir."

"Right, I see." Aragorn said thoughtfully, "It is going to be like that?"

"I'm afraid do sir."

"Good, I am glad we got that sorted out in advance." And without further warning, Isildur's heir produced a slightly curved and incredibly sharp dagger from his belt and held it at the taller elf's throat in one fluid motion. '_No one ever mentioned not carrying daggers around_.' He thought, with a sense of grim satisfaction as he noted the now widened eyes. "Right, shall we review the situation one last time?" He said, almost pleasantly. "I wish to get in to see the Evenstar, you are blocking my way. Now, as I see it, you have two choices. One: Open the door and allow me in, or, two: I cut your throat open and get in anyway…what is it to be?"

The guard thought long and hard before he replied, very carefully, "Option One."

"Good man." Aragorn stepped back and slid his dagger back into its sheath, waiting as the door swung open, before he strode quickly into Arwen's private rooms.

She was standing by the window, looking out over the land that she had grown up in, her back towards him and her hair unbound, spilling across the white linen of her dress in dark rivulets. "Aragorn," She said without turning around, "I had wondered how long it would be before you managed to break my door down." Turning, she looked him full in the face, deep blue eyes unreadable. "I know what it is you wish to ask." At Aragorn's raised eyebrow, she smiled slightly, "It is decidedly obvious, is it not?"

The man shrugged and sank into a carved chair, "Well?" Was all he said.

Arwen sighed, suddenly looking much older, despite her youth. "He loves you." She said simply and did not miss the slight widening of grey eyes. "He loves you and I love you, we are one and the same in our emotions. Legolas knew not your true identity until this morning," She smiled bitterly, "He believed you to be a simple man by the name of Estel, but I…I knew otherwise." She sighed and turned to look out of the window once more. "But I couldn't tell him about you, Aragorn. Why? I know not, all I am conscious of is being unable to utter a word that would break my forced vow of silence…until this morning." Pale fingers idly traced a random design on the window sill as Arwen bent her dark head. "Despite your apparent humble beginnings, he loved you from the moment he saw you. You have that power Aragorn, whether you believe it or not, your inner courage and strength shines out plainly on your face." She turned once more, and saw the man staring at her.

"He…loves me?" Aragorn's voice was hoarse with disbelief, his eyes wide in his face as he stared at the Evenstar.

"Aye, he loves you and I love you." The female elf sighed. "For this situation to be decided, you must choose."

"Choose? But how?"

********

Sauron stretched as he padded across his bed chamber towards the mirror. His honey blond hair swung on either side of his face in straight strands as he looked into the mirror, watching his own pale face.

That elf, the one he'd helped back to his chambers…by Valar he was beautiful. Green eyes narrowed slightly as the continued to stare at the mirror's surface, unseeing. 

'_He might be the one_,' he thought silently to himself, a pink tongue running across full lips, '_can it be that this was the one who was promised to me long ago?'_

TBC

**CB: **Ok, onto the thanks!

Silvawen The Elf Crumpet   S-Star  Fayth  Reikon  Jenna  Melissa Lupin  Earendilstar  trustingfriendship  LittleSpacedemon  Moonfairy2000  Kelsiface  goldmund (**Thanks to you, you've been an extremely faithful reviewer! *Hugs***) Makiko Igami (***Tackle glomps* Good to see ya reviewing again! ^_^**) Sakura (**Thanks for the tips, I've never read the Silmarillon.**)  Ladylianna  kat xxx  Aidenfire 

**CB:** Thanks to all you guys, I'll answer your reviews more properly next time, but I'm in a flying rush right now! Oh, and anyone want any other pairings in there, let me know and I'll see what I can do! *Dashes off*


	6. Chapter Six

**CB:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed! *Grins* Since I've now got over one hundred reviews, I decided I'd draw a picture for all of you *Sighs* Unfortunately I need someone to colour it for me…any offers?

**Dedication:** To Makiko Igami…who chose the other pairing that's now going to appear in this.

**Warning:** Slash, Male/Male relationships etc, twincest (any guesses as to that other pairing now? ^_~)

**Pairings:** Aragorn /Legolas mild Arwen/Aragorn and Elrohir/Elladan

_He was running and it was dark…dark as pitch but there were sounds: howls and shrieks, moans and gibbers as the darkness chattered to him, questing hands reaching out to touch his clothes. Behind him, he could hear footfalls and quiet whispers, like cloth sliding over skin. His well-trained ears caught the sounds of breathy sentences and quiet laughter, which seemed to override the other, more horrible noises._

_Suddenly, he hit a wall, and light flared from torches, showing him that he was in a large, dark cavern with no windows and no air passages, but a breeze seemed to make the torches stream in an unidentifiable wind. The footfalls were behind him now, obviously coming across the cavern as he turned to see if there was any escape behind him. Blank rock was all that met his fingertips, and as he bit his lip, panic rising irrationally in his stomach, he heard a voice…one that seemed strangely familiar._

_"Elladan, turn around." Unwillingly, almost as though he had no control over his own feet, he did so, green eyes remaining fixed on the floor as his fists clenched slightly._

_The voice gave no other commands, and instead, there was again, the sound of cloth sliding over skin and breathy whispers, and behind these noises…still…there was the sound of pain and terror. Elladan shivered as he continued to stare at the rocky floor, but his eyes seemed to have a life of their own, and within the space of a few heartbeats, his green eyes were travelling up to meet a strange sight._

_Two figures were standing opposite him, locked in what could only have been called an embrace. The slightly taller one was slowly kissing along the smaller one's neck, sweeping hair out of his way as he did so, fingers travelling down over a cloth covered chest as hands slid, flat palmed, in a possessive gesture. Elladan could not see who either of the people were, but from their voices, he ascertained that they were two of the Elvish folk. Neither of the two seemed to hear the awful sounds that encroached upon his own hearing, in fact, they appeared to believe that they were the only two in the room._

_But one had spoken to him…of that he was now sure, and he knew that both of them were conscious of his presence because every so often, he could see one of the silhouettes glancing towards him. "Who…are you?" He asked, taking an unwillingly step forwards as the smaller figure rolled its head back, completely submitting to the taller one. "Can you not hear those people?" He took another step closer, beginning to feel slightly nauseous as the shrieks of what sounded like the wounded and the dying reached a fevered pitch. "Can you not help them?" He pleaded, moving even closer._

_"We do not help them." Purred the taller one, whose face was hidden in shadow, "We delight in their suffering." He laughed even as there was a gurgling scream in the darkness, abruptly cut off, and the smaller figure let out an impassioned moan. "We enjoy their pain and fear."_

_"We are corrupt," The smaller one breathed, leaning backwards, into the other's embrace, "We have fallen and would see all fall with us."_

_"Fallen, how?"_

_"For a sin forbidden to all, from the lowliest peasant to the highest elf lord…but we desired too much…too much…"_

_"Who…who are you?" Elladan repeated again, taking one step closer. "Show me your faces, for in this light it is difficult to see."_

_Light flared from one of the torches placed in a bracket in the cavern and the scene in front of Elladan was illuminated in sharp relief, making him gasp and stumble back until he came into contact with the rough surface of the cavern wall again._

_Two pairs of green eyes regarded him with cruel amusement as long, dark hair shimmered and rippled in the torchlight. The taller of the two elves possessively dragged the smaller back to him, nibbling on an earlobe, even as he watched the living one's horror. "Do you not like what you see?" He questioned a moment later when no comment seemed forth coming from the shocked Elladan. "This is what you wanted, is it not?"_

_"No…not this…never this." Elladan's fingers scrabbled for purchase on the unforgiving wall as he tried to stop himself from collapsing in shock. "I never desired this…"_

_"You lie." Hissed the smaller figure maliciously, sliding slowly down to kneel in front of the taller one, but still facing the shocked elf. "This is what you have wanted for a long, long time."_

_"Who are you?" Elladan questioned again, feeling bile rise in his throat. _

_Identical faces turned towards him, and the kneeling elf smiled at him, slowly licking his lips. "I am you."_

_********_

Elrohir stared up at the ceiling, listening to the steady drumming of the rain against the leaves and other foliage outside. There was no light in the room, so the strange, grey shadows that come from water on glass were evident, spilling across his chest, making him look as though he was submerged in water, perhaps drowning, perhaps floating, but certainly not living.

Green eyes were staring blankly upwards, his lips slightly parted as he breathed in a slow, even pattern. If it were not for the rising and falling of his chest, anyone who saw him would have believed him dead. Dark, silken hair spilled across green clad shoulder and spread like waves over the cushion that was propped behind him. Pale skin looked as though it were cast in marble and was accented by perfectly arched brows. Anyone glancing in would simply have believed him to be a statue, a piece of cold, unfeeling stone…certainly not living.

Elaría stepped into the room, her footfalls quiet as she moved with the grace that is often found in the Elven women. Carefully she placed the tray she was holding on a nearby table before glancing around the room until her eyes landed on Elrohir, who was lying on the bed next to his unconscious twin, looking for all the world as though he too, knew nothing.

"Elrohir?" The woman sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed some of the dark hair back from the pale face. "You must eat something." She said gently as dull, green eyes turned towards her. "You will not aid Elladan by starving yourself." A pale hand reached out to clasp her own as Elrohir sat up slowly, his face still icily calm as he looked at her.

"I will not aid him by eating either." He managed with a smile that looked positively sickly. "Leave me alone Elaría, you do not understand."

The younger woman pursed her lips, took a calculated aim and hit him around the face with all the strength she could muster. "Like Valar I don't!" She shouted, her voice echoing around the room, "You two or like sons to me, I've been with you since I was no more than twenty years old, looking after you, serving you…" She stood up, her plain dress swishing around her ankles as she looked down at the shocked prince. "_Twenty_, Elrohir, that was hardly more than a babe in arms, and I'm now over two and a half thousand years old…so don't you tell me about not understanding."

Elrohir looked up at her, one hand clutching his cheek, which now had an angry red print mark on it. "I…" He paused and blinked, noticing the tears welling up in his mentor's eyes. "Elaría?" Carefully he stood up, "What's wrong?"

The elf woman sniffed and then, without warning, burst into a flood of tears, burying her face in the front of Elrohir's tunic. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs as the confused prince patted her on the back, looking puzzled as he stared at the top of her head. "I try…" She managed in between small hiccups, "I try and I try to look after you…all three of you…but it never works."

"…." Elrohir managed, feeling vaguely embarrassed.

"But now Elladan's unconscious, you appear to be turning into a wraith as I speak and Arwen's losing her heart to someone who is not faithful." Elaría's lower lips trembled as she looked up at her charge, and for one awful moment, Elrohir saw her looking very worried, very scared and very young. "I don't know what to do." She muttered, releasing his tunic and stepping back. "If I tell your father…"

"No!" Elrohir looked at her, worry etched onto his face. "Please…don't tell father…we can deal with these problems."

Elaría opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a small noise from the bed.

Immediately Elrohir had dashed back to his brother's side and leant over him, biting his lip as he watched his twin begin to stir. "El…El, can you hear me?" He asked softly, brushing dark strands back from the identical pale forehead. "El, it's me, Elrohir, are you awake?" Red lips moved as his twin's eyelashes fluttered, a small frown creasing his brow. "Elladan, come on…wake up."

Elaría bit her lip, pitying the distraught prince, even as she wiped the last remains of tears from her own eyes.

Elrohir bent even further over his brother. "Come on El, you have to wake up."

Green eyes flew open and Elladan screamed.

********

Boromir had often wondered if his very existence was some cruel but poorly played joke that the universe had thought up and then dumped on his mother's shoulders…or to be more precise, in her womb. He'd never been exactly brilliant at anything and whilst he was fiercely loyal and honourable, he did not consider himself to have the unique talent of leadership that was required of the leader and sometime keeper of Gondor. Whilst he knew he was good looking, he did nothing to flaunt it and because of this, women did not take much notice of him, in fact they all but ignored him, looking instead, with more favour towards his younger brother Faramir.

But that wasn't the worst of it…far from it in fact. The worst was probably that he was currently pinned against the wall by a woman half his size who had a dagger at his throat and was currently baring her teeth in a grin that was not exactly what one would call friendly. 

Oh yes, someone somewhere was killing themselves laughing over his life.

"Look," He said as reasonably as possible, "I really had _no_ intention of doing _anything_ to you…I only walked past you in the corridor in fact! You'll have to forgive me for saying so, my lady, but that simple action offers no excuse for you to threaten my life."

The woman raised one blonde eyebrow, her blue eyes disbelieving, but she withdrew the blade from the nervous Steward's throat nonetheless and stepped back, allowing him some breathing space. "Then where were you going at so early an hour?" She demanded sullenly, "What kind of a man walks the corridors just before dawn if he is not someone of ill intent?" Her blonde hair shimmered in the torchlight as she plucked several strands away from her face.

"I was…" Boromir's throat tightened involuntarily, choking off his next words.

"Well?"

The man sighed. "If you must know, I was going to a…a rehearsal."

"A rehearsal…of what?"

Boromir's expression could only be described as sulky as he looked at the warrior maid. "A dance production." He muttered reluctantly, and so quietly that if one did not have very good ears, they would not have heard him…. unfortunately, the woman had _exceptionally_ good hearing and her face split into an amused smile.

"You? A warrior, performing in a dance?" She asked, her tone of voice just bordering on derisive. On the tall man's reluctant nod, her eyes softened slightly, and she said something quite unexpected. "Take me with you, I wish to see this dance."

He'd got it wrong, Boromir thought as he escorted the strange lady down the corridor, the universe wasn't _killing_ itself laughing, it had probably just _died_.

********

Gimli was leaning against one wall, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes fixed on the elf who was sitting in a disconsolate heap by one of the windows. The sun was streaming into the warm room, making golden shafts of light in which tiny particles of dust danced, flashing and twinkling like thousands of tiny stars. One beam rested on the elf, surrounding him in a soft nimbus that gave him a radiant, ethereal look. His hair was shimmering like a rush of gold under water and his pale skin looked like warm and living marble, but his eyes…

Gimli frowned; the elf's eyes were like sapphires, beautiful in their own right but lifeless, sparkling without real joy and reflecting only that which was visible to others. He had heard somewhere that the eyes were the window to the soul, if this was the case; it appeared that the elf didn't have one. 

Tugging on his beard thoughtfully, the dwarf stepped nearer to the listless form. "What ails thee Legolas?" He said gruffly, reaching out to gently tap the other creature on the shoulder, causing the elf to jump slightly and look up from where his chin had been resting on his knees. "Are you sickening from something?"

"Nay," The elf's voice was hollow, "Elves do not sicken, just as they do not grow old…we are doomed to walk this earth after all that we love best is gone…" His voice trailed off and he stared ahead once more. "But I have no more wish to do so."

Gimli was a simple dwarf, but he realised something was wrong and whilst, as a rule, he did not tend to show sympathy towards his fellow creatures, he felt that the occasion had risen where he should now do so. Sitting down gingerly next to the blond elf, he put a friendly hand on Legolas's arm and looked at him with pity. "Is it Estel?" He asked carefully and felt a small sense of satisfaction at having guessed correctly when his companion's eyes flickered with a brief emotion before it was quickly stamped out again.

"Nay, what gave you that idea?"

Gimli shrugged, deliberately not doing anything that would provoke the elf. "There is no reason for my supposition, I simply wondered since he has not yet appeared and you show little concern over this." He smiled kindly, "Well, whatever the problem, it will right itself in time…you may be thousands of years older than me, but I know these things." Gimli patted the elf on the shoulder once more before standing up and moving to peer out of the window. "The sun is already high, do you think the other's will be coming at all today?"

As he spoke, the door burst open and Boromir tumbled in, followed by a woman in a plain dress, her long, wavy blonde hair caught back in a loose ponytail. 

"What…" Gimli began, but was cut off as Boromir straightened and turned to observe the lady behind him.

"You see?" The Steward of Gondor demanded, "These are my companions…I _was_ on my way to a rehearsal, good lady."

Instead of looking irate, the woman smiled, seeming pleased. "Oh _good,_" she said happily, "I thought you might have been lying." Glancing around, her smile grew wider. "My name is Eówyn, I am taking the place of Elaría today, since she is otherwise occupied." She gave a small curtsey then strode to the centre of the room, "I am here with my brother Eómer to attend the councils of Lord Elrond but I was requested to assist here." One slender eyebrow rose, "Has anyone got any questions they wish to ask me?"

"Yes," Boromir muttered, but so quietly she wouldn't hear him, "When will Elaría return?" 

Gimli, however, heard him, and snorted with barely contained laughter, before flicking a sly glance at Boromir, "You wish so much for the Lady Elaría to return my stout companion? It appears to me that you enjoy her company a mite too much." He felt a warm glow of smug satisfaction when Boromir choked slightly and shot him a filthy look, the tips of his ears turning a dull red as he then turned to face forwards and began resolutely ignoring the chuckling dwarf.

Just as Eówyn signalled for Gimli to step forwards so she could teach him the new movements, there was a loud thump from the door, before it flew open for a second time to admit a very dishevelled looking Aragorn. His grey eyes slightly wild, he scanned the room until he caught sight of Legolas, before he charged forwards, grabbed the startled elf around the wrist and dragged him back out in one swift movement; completely ignoring the other occupants of the room in his haste. 

Boromir, Gimli and Eówyn all blinked, feeling vaguely embarrassed and annoyed, but not wanting to admit it as they looked at one another, all wondering the same thing.

It was Boromir who eventually plucked up the courage to voice the thought in all their heads. "What," he said carefully, "Was all that about?"

********

Gandalf leant heavily on his staff as he looked thoughtfully at Lord Elrond. "You are sure?" He asked, one heavy grey eyebrow rose as he looked at the ancient elf. "If you beg my pardon, is it possible that both you and the Lady Galadriel are mistaken? Surely all of this business was laid to rest many thousands of years ago?"

"Nay…" Elrond began, but a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention and he spun to look at the person now standing to his right. "Who…" He began, but was cut off by Gandalf.

"My apprentice, I took him into my keeping when his parents were killed by Orcs." He shrugged, his age-old face showing slight puzzlement, "To this day, I have never worked out why I did this, such acts of mercy are not normally my style. However…" He smiled slightly, "I am grateful I did so, he is an invaluable aid to me." His face showed lines of deep thought, "He is at least half man…as to what the other half is, I cannot guess, but he does possess some powers, of that I am sure." Seeing Elrond's disbelieving look he elaborated. "How else do you think you completely missed him until now?" 

Elrond nodded and turned to the young man who was regarding him with level ice blue eyes. "And your name is?"

"Dante." **(1) **The man's voice was deep and smooth, with no hint of an accent as he regarded the Elf Lord with mild interest. "You must be Elrond of Rivendell; much have I heard of you and your greatness." He smiled then, a small curl of his lips as he tugged on a strand of his white hair that, Elrond realized belatedly, should not be natural in a man unless he was of extreme old age.

"Yes, I am Elrond of Rivendell." He replied carefully, "Welcome to my home, Dante, apprentice of Gandalf."

The man bowed, but it was slightly ironically, which earned him a sharp look from Gandalf, who was now sitting in a nearby chair. "Anyway," the old wizard said, steering the conversation back in the direction he wanted it to go, "you say that The Spirit now possesses Arwen, and uses her at will?" He rubbed one hand over his face tiredly.

Elrond nodded, tearing his thoughtful gaze away from Dante, who was now looking at one of the tapestries on the wall. "Yes, my old friend, that is correct."

"And we are _sure_ it is…well…her?" The Wizard inquired delicately.

"Mithrandir, I would stake my life upon it." Elrond said firmly, his blue eyes showing no hesitation. "'Tis Lúthien, I would swear upon it."

"Lúthien?" Dante had apparently been listening as well as studying his surroundings. "Forgive me Lord, but surely she died in an age long past? Her grief for Beren destroyed her life and she passed to the Halls of Mandos to be judged."

"That is the story." Elrond sighed and shut his eyes in a moment of tiredness, "However, it is not true. Lúthien did indeed love Beren, more than life itself and she forsook her immortality for him and devoted herself to him. But Beren was only a man and although he loved her, he took a lover also and Tinúviel became jealous, and begged Beren to reject his lover, but he would not do so, until eventually he died from grief, torn between his first love and his new love.

"When Lúthien Tinúviel saw what she had done, her sorrow was so great and bitter, that her heart broke and she began to die. But before she passed from this life completely, she begged the Valar to spare her spirit so that it might guide her descendants so they would not make the same grievous errors. The Valar pitied her and agreed that she would not be judged in the Halls of Mandos until she had fulfilled her tasks and so her spirit wanders, restless, throughout Rivendell, seeking to achieve its aim." Elrond sighed, "It appears the new age is upon us, where Lúthien's task will be fulfilled…but who will suffer? Even the wisest know not."

Gandalf nodded, "Wise is your learning indeed, Elrond, and if you know this tale and you still believe that Galadriel is correct in her assumption, then I will do all that I can to aid both you and your daughter in this time of trouble." He glanced sideways at Dante, "My apprentice, too, will serve you as unquestioningly as he does I, and so may we protect you and all you care about."

"There is one more thing…" Elrond began, but was interrupted again, this time by a knocking from the door. "Enter." He called, shooting an irritated glance at the wooden structure.

The door opened and a blond head peered around, green eyes slightly wide in a pale face. "Forgive me for interrupting, Lord, I came only to present my mother and father's regards to you."

"Ah, Sauron." Elrond relaxed slightly, "Come in and greet Mithrandir and his apprentice, who have journeyed far to seek and give council to me in such times that I might need it."

The elf hesitantly stepped into the room, looking slightly awed, but his chin was tilted at a haughty angle nonetheless, so he appeared both questioning and confident as he approached the two great men. "Hail, Elrond, Lord of Rivendell," He said formally, "Hail Mithrandir, great Istari." Then his face broke into a small smile and he hugged the elf lord. "I am sorry I did not see you earlier," he said, his voice full of true regret, "but I was talking with Cousin Glorfindel." He smiled, slightly slyly, "I have heard nothing but good from him about you, dearest friend."

Elrond blinked in mild surprise before he, too, began to smile. "Ah, the wit of youth again," he sighed in mock despair, "They are as subtle as an Oliphaunt, but with a hundred different meanings in one word at the same time." He looked at Sauron, deep blue eyes twinkling, "Your family holds a reputation of great prestige in Mordor **(2)** and you are welcome here, friend of my family." He turned to Gandalf as Sauron laughed and hugged him again, "See how an elf I have held on my lap when he was a babe, mocks me? Ah, Mithrandir, the young ones today are so insolent!" But he was laughing as he said it.

Suddenly, Sauron pulled back from Elrond and his green eyes widened and it took both of the other men a good couple of seconds to realise he was staring over his friend's shoulder. "Who are you?" He demanded, but with more curiosity than rudeness.

Dante turned and found himself pinned by a stare that was like emerald drills. Smiling slightly, he gave a small bow, dark lashes caressing the swell of his cheek as he blinked. "My name is Dante, I am apprenticed to Gandalf the Grey, or as you call him, Mithrandir." The man's ice blue eyes stared defiantly into the elf's and in the early morning light, his collar length hair blazed pure white as he moved forwards, impatiently brushing strands of it back. "It is good to make you acquaintance Sauron, friend of Elrond." The man took the elf's hand and gently kissed the back of it before straightening. 

Sauron glanced up at him, surprised at the man's boldness, and his lips parted in a silent question that found its reply in ice blue depths. **(3)**  

********

"Aragorn…stop…wait…what are you _doing_? I said STOP!"

Aragorn found that his quick march down a corridor had come to an abrupt halt and he was being pinned to a wall by slender elf hands as blue eyes stared angrily into his. "Just what do you think you are doing?" The elf hissed, shoving his face nearer to the startled man's as his eyebrows drew together in an angry frown.

Aragorn swallowed and very carefully reached up, unhooking the hands that gripped his collar. "I needed to speak with you, Legolas, so I wished to take you somewhere private."

"It is common courtesy, _Aragorn,_ to ask, first!"

"I apologise, but I did not want anyone to over hear us, and besides, would you have come if I had asked?" The man's shrewd look took in how Legolas' gaze flickered away, not meeting his own, and he found all the confirmation he needed. "This is about…well…why you departed so suddenly yesterday."

That provoked a reaction and Legolas' eyes flew back up to Aragorn's face, his cheeks flushing an angry red. "I did not 'depart' suddenly, as I said, I had other things to attend to."

"Do you think you can lie to me elf? You wished to talk to Arwen about my name, is that not so?"

"How dare you doubt my word, man!"

"I doubt it because you are lying through your pretty little teeth!" Aragorn shoved Legolas backwards away from him and drew himself up to his full height, "You were upset because my name is Aragorn, not Estel? I myself did not know my true name until a few years ago! Why should it matter to you by what name I go?"

"It does not!" Legolas spat, his hands shaking as he felt anger welling up and breaking his normally calm demeanour.

"Then why the sudden objection to my company? Why the avoidance? It has only begun since yesterday…you did not dislike my company before that!"

"Because you are a liar, Estel, you are not who you say you are! I thought you were simply a ranger who had been summoned by Lord Elrond to bear witness to something. It did not cross my mind to think otherwise, but suddenly I find you are my Lord's adopted son and heir to the throne of Gondor! How many people must have been laughing behind their hands at the besotted elf and his precious human!" Legolas almost instantly realised he'd said too much and clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes becoming wide with guilt as Aragorn stared at him.

"Besotted elf?" He repeated, tilting his head slightly, grey eyes shining, "You love me, melethron?"

"I…wait…what did you call me?" Legolas swallowed slightly, his hear thumping painfully in his chest. __

Aragorn's lips quirked in a small, yet slightly bitter smile. "Melethron, it means 'love' or 'lover' in your tongue, does it not?" He sighed and looked away down the corridor. "That is what I wished to talk to you about, Legolas. Arwen spoke to me yesterday, she told me everything…no," he continued as Legolas went to speak, "_everything_, do you understand? I know of the choice I have to make and how, whichever way I choose, one of you will be hurt.

"I loved Arwen…no, don't turn from me, I loved her dearly, but in my desperation for comfort, I mistook my love for something far deeper and more profound than it actually was. And then, no more than three days ago, I met you. You were swimming in that pool and to my eyes you looked like an angel." Rough hands reached out to grab pale ones as Legolas tried to move again, "It was _then_ that I realised what love was. It was keen blue eyes and golden hair, it was a wicked smile and a sharp tongue…it was _you_." Aragorn sighed, the sadness creeping up in his eyes.  "You don't know how long I struggled with my conscience last night, Legolas. You or Arwen? It was a choice that should never have had to have been made and I pondered many answers to its riddle.

"Should I just flee Rivendell? But then that would hurt both of you. Deny both of you? Again, it would break both hearts. And then I pondered, what if chose Arwen over you? But again, my conscience stepped in. to choose Arwen would be like agreeing to be caged, locked in a room and only one person would hold the key…and they would never be allowed to fit it into the lock." Aragorn's eyes were fierce as he looked at Legolas, who, in turn, was looking slightly dazed. "To deny that I love _you_, Legolas, is to deny a part of myself and in denying that part of myself, I would be weak, incomplete and of no use to any soul."

"I…" Legolas's mouth open and shut as his throat worked for a reply. "That's…it's _beautiful_ Aragorn, but you cannot…"

"Have you not been listening?" The man teased gently, before he became serious again. "If I have to live my life without you, it will be bitter, blank, meaningless…as nightfall in winter without a star. Your light, and your light alone, shines out illuminating my path, and I wish to walk it with you."

"Aragorn…" Legolas held up a hand, silencing the ranger, "You _must_ think of Arwen, please. I believe every word you say, and I know that you speak from the bottom of your heart…but dwell on this: in ten, twenty years time when you desire children of your own, I will not be able to give them to you. When you come into your proper birthright, the people of Gondor will not accept two kings ruling them…humans are not as understanding of these things and you will come to despise me for everything I represent. I could not live like that, Aragorn, could you?" Not waiting for an answer, and fearing his resolve would break if he met shocked grey eyes, Legolas turned on his heel and marched away with as much dignity as he could muster.

**_Tinúviel – as she was called by some – stood in the middle of the clearing. Her golden hair was unbound now, but she still wore her red cloak, closed tight around her body. Her eyes were full of sadness as she listened to the crying out of her children's hearts and her sorrow was great that day. **_

To Be Continued… 

**CB:** Oookay, who's confused, hands up! *Grins* Just a little warning, things will be getting even _more_ angsty before they get better…oh…and this fic is going to be _long_. Much longer than I anticipated actually! Ah, on another note…again… YES THIS WILL HAVE A HAPPY ENDING, I SWEAR ON THE HEAD OF MY…UH…DOG!

*Glomps and smothers all her reviewers in kisses* Thanks guys! They're all wonderful! 

**(1)** Sorry, I couldn't resist putting Dante in here. For those of you who've never heard of 'Devil May Cry', he's the _totally_ kick ass main character, who's a bit of a bad boy and half demon…but don't worry, he's going to be forced to fit in perfectly with the plot, I promise he's not just a random insert on a whim. (Incidentally, I don't own DMC either…. shame.)

**(2)** Mordor (because this is an AU) is actually another dwelling place of elves. 

 **(3)** *Cackles evilly* Just to REALLY confuse things, I might put in another pairing…can anyone see what? *Snickers*


	7. Chapter Seven

**CB:** *Cowers behind her muses, hiding from the angry readers with pitchforks* I'm REALLY sorry guys! I haven't been able to update because I've had a thousand and one things to do! But I'm updating now, so please don't kill me!  


**Quick Note:** my apologies if I get some things wrong in this chapter. It's only because I haven't written in this fic for a good six months. (I'm so very, very sorry!) Also, there is some slight discontinuity in this chapter leading on from the previous, and this _will_ happen again in the next chapter. Apologies. Also note that **THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE FIC**, because I know that some people _will _ask. ^_^

**Dedication:** Still dedicated to Makiko of course!

Arwen hurried down the corridor, her long, pale skirts and dark hair flying behind her as she broke into a light footed run, her expression grim. In her head, the same words pounded over and over. '_He cannot go, he cannot go, he cannot go_." Too much effort had been put into everything…too many precious feeling hurt and too many noble sacrifices had been given.

As she flew up one of the wide stone staircases that wound around and up towards the large and airy room that Legolas inhabited, Arwen's mind paused briefly to wonder how she knew these things. But the thought was immediately dismissed out of hand; it was not as important as reaching the prince of Mirkwood before he did something both very stupid and very noble.

"_Reth hennanan…" _She cursed under her breath as she tripped and nearly fell, before steadying herself just in time. Elves very rarely stumbled, and, indeed, it seemed oddly appropriate that she was so distracted that even her innate sense of balance had deserted her. "_Imith ca ólun_!" She spat, tugging off her dainty slippers and dropping them, unheeding on the floor behind her as she ran the last few corridors to her friend's room.

Bursting through the doors, and not waiting to knock, her gaze immediately fell on the blond elf, standing by the window.

His hair illuminated and glowing thanks to the weak sunlight that was pushing its way through the clouds, Legolas appeared to be bathed in a glowing radiance – something that Arwen knew only too well was completely false. Even without any ability to read minds or search auras, she could _feel_ the waves of despair rolling off of him like the black clouds that had dogged the sky only hours before.

"_Legolas, ad noan?_" (Legolas, where are you going?) She demanded angrily, stamping her bare foot on the smooth stone floor. _"Ithin gah ilan?_" (Are you mad?) Realising he was paying little or no attention to her, Arwen flew across the room in an uncharacteristic fit of rage and grabbed the taller elf's arm. Spinning him around roughly, she gripped his chin hard and forced him to look at her, fury flaming in her eyes.

"What do you think you are doing?" She demanded, anger dripping from every carefully pronounced syllable of the common tongue.

"Leaving." Even though his face was turned towards her, his eyes were not. Indeed, they appeared dull, lifeless as they scanned the room to her left.

"_Leaving?_" Arwen's voice neared a shriek as she shook him. "Why are you _leaving_? You have won his heart, you have beaten me, indeed, you deserve him, and yet you are _leaving_?" Inside of her, the rational part of her mind was quietly struggling to maintain some semblance of sanity as she fought with the unbridled rage that was now washing over her. "I have spoken to him, Legolas." She snapped suddenly, her voice hard as steel. "He has confessed his love for you, and yet you have rejected him, rejected what could be _happiness_ and, indeed, have given orders to your company that you are to return home within the day!"

Snarling as he still refused to look at her, she dropped his arm and, instead, gripped his shoulders. "_Look at me_!" She all but screamed, her hair starting to fall loose as she shook him roughly again. "_Look at me, by Valar!_ I have given him up for you! I have allowed my heart to be broken so that you two could have what is clearly so precious! I will not say that I do not want him back, but I want you to be happy even more! And _you_, you have rejected him! Is my sacrifice in vain? Why do you refuse to answer?" Disgusted as he simply looked the other way, she released her hold on him and stepped back a couple of paces.

"You really have no idea, do you?" She said suddenly, softly, all traces of anger gone from her voice. "I have given up the one thing that would have made me happy." Stumbling slightly, she sank down on the edge of his bed, hands still shaking with the traces of anger that had burned so fiercely in her only seconds before. "I gave it up because you… you two…meant more than anything to me in the world, save for my own kin." Her blue eyes turned towards him, tears starting to sparkle in their corners. "Is my sacrifice in vain, dear one? Will you not stay?"

"I cannot." Even his voice was lifeless as he allowed his gaze to truly fall upon her for the first time. "I will not go to him, Arwen. I have seen the future, and it is bleak. He will end up despising me, and that I cannot allow." His chin lifted slightly, and Arwen saw the first hints of the elf she had known. "I would rather bear my love for him away, and remember it fondly, than to sit by him, day after day, month after month, year after year, and feel his anger and hatred towards me growing. I cannot bear him children, so he will have no heirs. The people of Gondor will _not_ accept us when he eventually claims his throne. He will always feel the guilt of having refused you and your love, and knowing what it will have done to you.

"No," and now he looked at her fully. "That I cannot bear. And so I must go."

"Fool." Said softly, but with the intensity and hard ringing of a blade. "You are giving up something far more precious than I."

He stared at her for a moment, face showing a small yet bitter struggle as emotions flickered across his proud, somehow cold features. "Perhaps. But it is better this way." Stooping, he picked up a small pack that had rested hitherto unseen by the end of his bed and shouldered it, stalking past her to the door.

"You are wrong, you know." Again, her voice lashed out across the intervening space as his hand reached for the door handle.

Pausing, he turned to regard her once more. So cold and distant from the elf she remembered from not more than a few days ago.

"Perhaps. Goodbye, Arwen."

********

Elrohir clasped his twin gently to him, rocking him slowly back and forth as he murmured soothing words. His hands were gently rubbing Elladan's back and his cheek was resting on the dark hair of his brother's head.

Elladan's furious screaming had given way to a sudden outpouring of tears and Elaría, ever the patient soul, had immediately sensed that Elrohir would be far more competent at comforting his twin's anguish than she ever would. She'd tactfully withdrawn and left the two of them alone, even when Elladan's tears had slowly faded to the occasional vague hiccup and stifled sob, and then, eventually, nothing.

Stirring slightly in his twin's arms, Elladan craned his neck to peer up into the sober face of his twin as Elrohir watched him, green eyes mildly curious, hands still making soothing motions down his back.

"Feeling slightly better?" His twin whispered, pausing to brush some dark strands of hair away from the now quiet elf's face.

"I…yes." Elladan's voice was husky, clearly telling the tale of the tears he had just wept. "Thank you…" He murmured, pillowing his head on his brother's chest once more, and turning slightly so he could nuzzle his flushed face against the coolness of Elrohir's tunic.

"Whatever for?" 

"For…looking after me when I'm like this."

Soft laughter made Elrohir's chest vibrate slightly, and a small giggle managed to worm its way past his lips. "El, there's absolutely nothing to thank me for. I know you would do precisely the same for me." A light kiss was dropped on Elladan's hair, and he felt his twin moving them down the bed slightly, so he could lean with his back against the pillows, rather than the headboard. "So stop worrying about it."

Elladan nodded slightly and remained silent, enjoying the peaceful moment with his twin, as he was lulled into an almost dreamlike state by the calm beating of Elrohir's heart.

"What…what did get you so worked up though?" Elrohir asked eventually, clearly hesitant to ask  - but obviously wanting to know nonetheless. "You were screaming so loudly it's a wonder grandmother didn't hear you in Lorien." 

"It…was…it was nothing." Elladan muttered, burying his face still further into the folds of Elrohir's tunic, his fingers gripping the soft material.

"'Nothing' doesn't make a person scream like that, El." His twin murmured, neither accusing nor judging. "Something's wrong."

Elladan shook his head, both unwilling and scared to tell his brother. "It was nothing," He repeated, more firmly this time. "A bad dream, that is all."

Elrohir pursed his lips, but made no more comments, choosing instead to wrap his arms around his twin. Gently humming, he began to rock him back and forth once more, until finally, he began to sing softly, using an old lullaby their mother had sung to them. The soft elvish tongue soothing him, Elladan began to drift into an almost trance like state, neither sleeping nor waking.

"_Iliná, cose inimé,_

_Noa de hanenn illar,_

_Gerent an no hera,_

Emgil so noa time…" 

At one point, he thought he heard Elaría come in, indeed, he was almost certain she had bent over and pressed a cool hand to his forehead her voice murmuring quietly to Elrohir, who neither moved, nor broke off his quiet singing. And then her presence was gone again, and only the gentle sensation of the soft brush of her hair against his face lingered in his memory for a moment.

"'Rohir?" Elladan's voice was thick with sleep, but his eyes were still open.

"Hmm?" His twin murmured, pausing for a moment in his song.

"Keep singing, won't you? It keeps the bad dreams away."

"Alright, if you like." Elrohir waited for a moment, until he was almost certain Elladan was asleep, before gently tilting his twin's head back so he could see the pale, still face. Allowing his lullaby to finish for the moment, the unusually sober elf bent his head and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his brother's brow. "I'll protect you, El." He murmured, before leaning back once more. 

********

Aragorn stood by the large window that looked out over the graceful gardens that surrounded the house of Elrond. From outside, he could hear quiet elvish singing as the occupants of the realm went about their daily business, a song nearly permanently on their lips. Inside the room, however, there was silence.

_"Quick! There's still time! You can stop him!"_ _Arwen's voice, breathless with both anxiety and anger as she stared up at him. "Go after him! He hasn't left yet! He's probably still at the stables!"_

_"And what purpose would it serve?" His own voice, bitter with the sting of rejection, "He has made it quite clear that he wishes to have nothing to do with me, Arwen."_

_"Aragorn, you _love_ him! Surely that is something worth fighting for!"_

_"No, it's not, because the flame of my love has been blown out before it ever had a chance to kindle into something more."_

_"Please! I'm begging you! Stop him! If not for yourself, then for me! He is my dearest friend and I would not have him leaving here with only bitter memories."_

_"No." Hard refusal, but he couldn't meet her gaze._

_"It is not too late! I am _begging_ you Aragorn! Save both him and you!"_

_"…It is already too late, Arwen."_

Aragorn's hand, which had been resting peacefully on the windowsill, clenched suddenly as a wave of anger broke over him. "It is not my fault that all this has come to pass." He hissed to the silent room, his defiant gaze sweeping the room until it eventually rested on his cloak and sword, both of which were resting neatly on a chair near the door. "It is _not_!" He stated again as both items appeared to mock him with their very stillness.

In Aragorn's mind, the sword and cloak laughed silently. _Coward…oath breaker…you do not even_ try_ to stop him…what do you care?_

"That's NOT it! It's not! I just know it's pointless!" The man snapped, in very much the same way as he had done earlier to Arwen, when she had come hurtling into his room, half crazed as she screamed of how she had just spoken with Legolas and that he was leaving.

_"Coward…"_ The sword murmured again.

Pursing his lips, the man stared at them for a moment, his eyes flashing grey fire. "It is inevitable now that he must leave and I…I will not stop him. As I said; it is _over_." Turning once more, he gazed out over the gardens, hands clenched into fists once more before he turned and stalked from the room.

********

Galadriel, White Lady of the Woods, as some called her, bent and carefully dipped a huge silver chalice into a small pool of water. Murmuring softly to herself in elvish, she passed a hand over the top of the cup, then allowed a small smile to creep across her face as she felt the gentle energy of the stream flowing up through her fingertips and on towards the top of her arm.

Carefully setting the cup aside for a moment, she turned to look across the clearing at the small basin set so inconspicuously into the small tower of stone that had been carved from the raw material of the forest.

The mirror.

As always, it called to her, it's silvery surface beckoning her to look upon it and beyond – to see the fate of mortal kings and queens, of elves and dwarves and most importantly, of her beloved grandchildren.

Sighing, the Lady of the Woods hesitated for a moment, before walking swiftly across the clearing towards her mirror, her feet barely crushing the grass as she passed. Stopping, she gazed down at the mirror for a long moment, neither seeing nor rejecting sight – merely contemplating. Then, with a swift movement, she passed her hand over the surface in a movement very similar to that she had demonstrated only moments ago on the cup.

"_Filrath hemon!"_ (Reveal yourself!) She commanded, lightly tapping the water and causing ripples to spread out, distorting her own image, but revealing another.

Arwen was standing by Aragorn's side, dressed in fine, elvish robes. Both man and maid appeared happy as they surveyed the room of bowing people. Her expression was serene, his warm as he took her hand in a gentle grip, before bidding his subject's to rise.

_As they did so, a third, cloaked figure stepped up on the King's right, a hood obscuring his face._

_The King turned towards this hooded figure and smiled, his expression betraying nothing other than gratitude as he raised his hand, palm up, in an expression of thanks. Arwen, on his other side, also bowed her head, before taking the hooded warrior's hand and curtseying, her face mirroring Aragorn's in its gratitude. The couple smiled at the warrior, who nodded his head, gracefully accepting the thanks without any words._

_"How might we thank you, noble saviour?" The king asked, a smile on his face. "For it is not oft that a King is saved by a humble traveller, and for that I would give you some mark of my respect and gratitude."_

_"I need nothing, my lord." Came the soft reply from within the depths of the cloak, and a pale hand reached out to pull a strand of dark hair back within the shadows of its hood. "A humble ranger, such as I, cares nothing for material wealth."_

_Aragorn frowned, but said no more on the matter. "You will, at least, stay for our feast this evening then, most noble warrior?"_

_Another bow of the head. "A pleasure, my lord."_

The mirror rippled briefly, and Galadriel shook her head, her eyes burning as she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the dull ache that indicated she had been staring without blinking for too long.

The mirror rippled again, and another scene was revealed.

Elrohir was standing in his room at Rivendell, his back to the mirror's view. His long, dark hair fell in a sleek waterfall down his back, and the sun picked the faint copper highlights out, illuminating him softly. His arms folded across his chest, he stood absolutely still, not moving a muscle until another elf, identical in appearance, walked into view.

_Elladan gently touched his twin's shoulder, his expression radiating concern and Elrohir spun, his expression flickering between disbelief and joy._

_Silently, the slightly shorter twin held out his arms, and Elrohir tumbled into them, still unable to take his eyes off his brother as he ran long, clever fingers over Elladan's face, his expression now filled with something bordering on relief and more than a little wonder._

_Elladan murmured something as his twin buried his face in the crook of his neck, and Elrohir gave a small, slightly muffled chuckle, his fingers clenching convulsively in the thick material of Elladan's robe._

"Missed you, missed you so much…" One twin breathed.

Galadriel could not tell which.

"My brother…my precious elf star…" Murmured the other, and suddenly they were crashing and melding, like twin candle flames, combined into a flaming torch, so powerful, bright and beautiful.

Gasping, Galadriel wrenched herself away from the mirror a second time, her whole form trembling at the memory of what she had just seen. Her grandsons, her two precious grandsons, embracing, like that…in that way. She bit her lip, daring to wonder whether she was mistaken – if the mirror had lied.

//_It did not lie, White Lady. //_ Came an amused voice in her head, its tone gently mocking. //_This is what will happen if you do not heed the mirror's warning. Bring one of the twins to Lorien and avert this affair. //_

Galadriel started, and stared around her, face even paler than usual. "Who are you?" She breathed. "Show yourself!"

A soft peal of laughter rang around the clearing, and a woman stepped out from the shadow of one of the trees. It was the same one who had spoken with Elladan and Elrohir, but this time, her hair was flowing loose, and her cloak was merely draped over her shoulders, not wrapped securely around her. "Hello, little one," She murmured, a small smile gracing her lips.

Galadriel stared at her. "Lúthien…" She murmured, taking a cautious step forward, one hand outstretched. "How…?"

The woman darted backwards, a sudden expression of pure terror on her lovely face. "Do not touch me, Galadriel!" She warned, "For if you do, as the Valar have told me, I shall be sent back to the Halls of Mandos and no longer able to help."

"So it's true then? That you returned to stop past mistakes being repeated?"

"Indeed. And I tell you this: the darkness you have feared for so long is spreading, and history is already repeating itself once more."

"How? How is that possible?"

Lúthien smiled gently. "The Prince of Mirkwood is leaving these shores." She murmured, "And with him goes the love of one who is incomplete without him."

"Aragorn?"

The spirit smiled, but said nothing. 

"Tell me!" Galadriel took another step forwards, but as she did, Lúthien vanished, leaving only a faint echo of sound behind her.

"_Estel…"_

********

The elf stared silently out across the sea, his blond hair blowing in the wind.

It was finished then, everything had at last come to this. A final journey, but one that was not started with fond farewells or people to come and bid him goodbye. Rather, he was alone, isolated, and that was something he would always be now. Bereft and cold.

To a casual observer, he appeared like an ice statue; pale, perfect, but cold and still, no real life left within him, and somehow almost indescribably dead.

He had not wanted his father to grieve before he had left, and he knew that by the time the messenger he had sent reached Mirkwood, it would be far to late for anything to stop him. Indeed, that was why he had planned it this way. Better by far that his father simply remember him as he was before he had entered Rivendell and met with the one known only to him as Estel, then, eventually, the stranger Aragorn.

Waves lapped gently at the shingle as blue eyes turned to stare at the small boat that would carry him across the sea. Taking a deep breath, the elf began to move towards the boat, his expression sad.

Carefully, he walked up the small gangplank and felt the boat immediately put out to sea, driven by the magic with which it had been created. Turning, he took one last glance at the lonely shore, before it faded into obscurity.

'_White shores are calling,_

_You and I will meet again…'_

ROTK Soundtrack.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	8. Chapter Eight

**CB:** Heh, seeing ROTK again at the cinema really makes me itch to write, so I sat down and did. 

**Warnings:** Probably a lot of confusion…even I'm confused… @_@

**Special Thanks:** I especially wanted to thank Cherry Lee, who very kindly translated 'Green Leaf' into Chinese. Wow, my first piece of translated work! Now I'm scared… ^_^ Anyway, thanks, Cherry Lee! *Hugs*

Dante frowned as he stood behind the throne, his expression betraying only a hint of impatience as he watched Aragorn lean over and whisper something in Arwen's ear. The lady in question giggled quietly and tapped him lightly on the shoulder – a small reprimand for misbehaving.

They behaved like a pair of newlyweds, those two; the apprentice wizard thought irritably, brushing a strand of his shocking white hair back from his face. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn they were in love. Blue eyes thoughtfully stared at Aragorn, a slight air of puzzlement weaving around him as he folded his arms across his chest. But he _did_ know better…didn't he?

It had been five years since Legolas of Mirkwood had departed from the shores of Middle Earth, and three years previously, Arwen Undomniel had officially been proclaimed Aragorn's betrothed. The pair made a striking couple, both dark with pale, grave faces, but nearly every courtier commented under his or her breath that it was like magic the way the king responded to his queen's presence, and vice versa. 

Dante, on the other hand, had been _sure_ that there was something in that prophecy his master had told him. Lúthien had returned five years previously to right the wrongs she herself had brought about during her own lifetime. This in its self should have signified that the marriage of the new king of Gondor and the Evenstar of the elves should not have taken place, but lo and behold, no less than six months after the betrothal, it had.

When Gandalf was questioned about it, the old wizard simply clamped his lips shut tight around his pipe and puffed so much thick blue smoke out of it, that the questioner was forced to retreat or choke to death. Likewise, Elrond remained studiously silent and if Galadriel knew anything, she was keeping it to herself.

"My lord!"

Dante's attention snapped back to the present as Boromir approached the throne, closely followed by Eówyn, who was struggling to keep a straight face at the sight of Aragorn's chief tactical advisor wearing the surcoat and crest (a lovely yellow, olive green and grey combination) of his family. Boromir himself clearly knew how ridiculous he looked in the family colours, but was obviously determined to continue the tradition of wearing them at court gatherings.

"Approach, Lord of the Citadel." Aragorn inclined his head, but Dante caught a glimpse of the small smile of amusement that had flitted briefly across Aragorn's lips as well. "What is it, most noble cousin?"

"My lord," Boromir returned, bowing before the throne then straightening, "The Lady Eówyn and I have been having a disagreement."

"A disagreement?" Aragorn's eyebrows rose and he turned puzzled grey eyes on the lady in question. "About what?"

"She claims, my Lord, that she is capable of felling a wild boar with one blow from a lance." Boromir scowled as Arwen smothered a giggle behind her hand, before looking at Aragorn once more. "I therefore propose, my lord, that since the lady Eówyn is such a fine warrior, we should put her boast to the test, as I disagree with her."

Aragorn, used to these squabbles, clearly fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Very well." Standing, he smoothed his tunic before holding out his hand to help Arwen rise as well. "Tomorrow, at dawn, we shall begin the Royal Hunt of the season, and the Lady Eówyn may accompany us."

There were a few mutters from among the court men, but they knew better than to openly question their king and his motives. Instead, the court was dismissed and Dante was allowed to flee to the relative sanctuary and quiet of his room.

Shutting the door behind him, he leant heavily against it with a sigh of half relief, half weariness, and shut his eyes, letting his head fall back against the thick wood.

"Oh my, tired of doing nothing all day?"

The voice was as clear as crystal and as sharp as shards of glass. It was one Dante knew well, so he didn't even bother to open his eyes as he replied: "That tongue of yours will get you into trouble one of these days. It's not politically correct to go around insulting the king's wizard."

A snort. "King's conjurer, more like. You hardly ever do any real magic any more, you're simply becoming lazy, white haired one."

"And you, beautiful one, are becoming more irritable by the hour." At last Dante opened his eyes and focused on the elf that was lounging on the sill of his window, full lips pursed in disapproval, and blond hair shimmering in the late evening sunlight.

"Nonsense, I'm simply pointing out what you should already know." The elf slid off the sill and stretched, arms high over his head, affording the young man a view of his lithe body. "Admit it, you're as bored as I am." Padding across the room, he placed a hand either side of the wizard's head, frowning – face only inches from Dante's. "We're both bored. This…this _court life_," and he spat the last words out in disgust, "is suffocating you. It's turning you placid and it's turning me into nothing more than an ornament. Pretty to look at, and utterly useless."

"Sauron, you're exaggerating again."

"Am I?" The elf turned away in disgust and shot the man an arch look over his shoulder. "Tell me then; when was the last time your blood thrilled at the sight and sound of battle? When was the last time your heart sang for the joy of being alive and whole?"

The wizard made no reply.

"As I thought. Suffocated." The elf leant against the opposite wall, crossing his arms as he did so.

"Well what do you propose I do then?" Dante threw his arms up in a gesture of defeat. "Aragorn insists on keeping me here in case something occurs – I am his only link to Gandalf!"

"Aragorn, Aragorn, Aragorn," Sauron sneered, not bothering to hide his distaste for the king, "That's all you ever think about. Your precious king." Behind his harsh words, however, Dante caught a flash of jealousy and fear. "He's entirely too selfish for his own good. One day I might…" He turned abruptly, cutting off his own words and staring out of the window, his lips hardening into a thin line.

"You might what?" Dante frowned and took a cautious step towards the elf.

"Nothing."

"No, really, you might…"

"I said it's nothing!" Sauron snapped, not looking at the wizard. "Leave it, will you? I said it in the heat of the moment."

The wizard sighed and shrugged his shoulders, before turning away. Rubbing his temples, he could feel the beginnings of a headache so he opted to ignore the elf who was still standing rigidly in one corner of the room and instead lay down on the bed, shutting his eyes again as he fought off the growing pressure throbbing in his head.

Suddenly, the bed dipped as a new weight was added to it, and Sauron settled against his back, arms wrapping around him so that cool fingers could reach the man's forehead. "I am sorry, _melên nin," _The elf murmured, gently soothing the stress of the headache, "I did not mean to be so angry with you – particularly when I know you feel as trapped as I." He sighed and paused in his ministrations, half smiling when Dante made a small, discontented sound. "I am a jealous being, and when I hear you speaking of Aragorn with such respect…well…" He trailed off, letting the wizard draw his own conclusions. "The problem remains," He continued softly after a moment, his fingers resuming their soothing motion on the man's temples, "That I _am_ jealous…and I would kill for you."

Dante shifted on the bed, turning so he could see the elf's face. "You mean that." He said seriously, blue eyes grave in his otherwise youthful face.

"Yes…" The elf stared solemnly at him, green eyes hard, like beautiful emeralds, "Yes, I do…"

********

"Elladan?" Galadriel swept into the room, making her grandson jump guiltily up from his desk, where he had been reading a heavy tome. 

"Yes, my lady?" Tall, dark and slender, Elladan had not changed from the day he had arrived to stay in the white woods of Lórien, despite the five years of both physical and mental training he had received.

"Your father just sent this dispatch back with Haldir." Galadriel seated herself gracefully on the edge of the bed, telling herself it was one of the perks of age that she could be seated whilst the young ones remained standing. "It looks slightly more official than usual, so I assumed it meant either good news or bad." She smiled at him, her expression surprisingly gentle. "Either way, I thought you might want some company whilst reading it."

Elladan laughed. "You just want to know what's in there, grandmother!" He teased, with the easy familiarity that only comes of prolonged acquaintance. 

Galadriel made no attempt to hide the humour that sparkled in her ageless eyes, but she nonetheless indicated the sealed parchment with a nod of her head.

Breaking open the seal, Elladan allowed his eyes to travel across the page.

_My dearest son,_

_I trust you are well and heeding the teachings of your grandmother – growing both in wisdom and strength with each passing day. It has been five long years since I saw you last, and I know you must be eager to visit home. I can only offer you my most humble and abject apologies, Elladan, that I have not invited you home before now, but as you know, most of the troops usually stationed at Rivendell have been assisting both Arwen and Aragorn in Gondor, thus, a small party could not be spared to guard you safely upon your journey._

_However, your grandmother has kindly agreed to provide an escort for you, and so I would be delighted if you would come for a visit._

_Take care, Elladan, and come home to us soon._

Smiling, Elladan looked up and raised an eyebrow. "I'm allowed to go home?"

Galadriel nodded, her expression serene, even as inside she winced – knowing how much the younger elf had missed his home and family, particularly…

Elrohir.

Oh yes, she had almost forgotten why her beloved Elladan had been called to Lórien, nearly forgotten the warning Lúthien had given to her by the mirror. Elrond, of course, knew nothing of what she had seen, and so it had been with a great deal of tact that his mother in law had suggested that his son come to stay with her for a couple of years. It had taken some persuading, and even after Elladan had left, the letters between the twins flew thick and fast across the distance between Rivendell and Lórien.

Which reminded her…

Putting a hand inside her robe, Galadriel almost reluctantly drew out another piece of sealed parchment. "Here," She murmured, "This also came for you."

Elladan's eyes lit up, and he half snatched the parchment from her. "Is it from 'Rohir?" He questioned eagerly, and Galadriel nearly winced to hear the hope in his voice.

"Yes, yes."  Hiding her discomfort, the lady of the woods stood, smoothing out her dress and moving gracefully towards the door. "I shall leave you alone to peruse your correspondence for an hour, and then we shall meet to discuss how we are to get you to Rivendell safe and in one piece." She paused, her hand hovering over the heavy iron ring of the latch. "Elladan?"

"Hmm?" He was clearly waiting for her to leave.

"…Nothing." Galadriel said, and walked out, shutting the door behind her.

Elladan paused for a moment, savouring the anticipation that always came just before he opened one of his brother's letters, before he tore it open and began to read; a hungry, almost feverish look on his face.

_Dearest El,_

_Father informed me this morning that you will be returning home for a visit – at last! These five years have been so utterly dull and worthless without you! I cannot wait to see you again, nor can Elaría (she is quite beside herself because she is insisting that your room be perfect for your arrival, and she only has three days!)_

Elladan smiled.

I have been made Captain of the Guard, an honour only accorded to me thanks to an arrow in the leg from an unlucky bandit. I say unlucky, because after I'd finished with him I rather think he wished he had never been born! Of course this proved my worth to father who had before this (I suspect) harboured doubts about my skill with both bow and sword. It feels strange, El, to be the one giving orders for once, and I must confess, I am not entirely used to it. Still, I am sure the moment you are home, you will put me properly in my place again!

Summer has come early this year, and the gardens are beautiful. I cannot wait to show you a clearing I found yesterday – ah! It is amazing! A brook runs through the centre, and the trees ringing it have the freshest, greenest leaves you have ever seen.

But all this can wait until I see you again, my beloved brother.

Take care, and come home safely to me, little scholar.

With all my heart and soul,

Elrohir.

Putting the letter down, Elladan savoured the warm glow that came from reading his brother's letter. Yes, it was long due that he should be allowed home – he _had_ missed his father, Elaría and Arwen, but he had missed Elrohir most of all – like a dull ache in his chest that refused to go away – the loss of his brother's presence had haunted him. Smiling, the dark haired elf clutched the letter tightly in his hand for a moment before stowing it safely in a box on his desk.

His fingertips lingered for a moment on the dark wood of the box lid and Elladan's mind flew back five years to the smell of his brother's sleek hair, so much like the polished wood – the feel of it as he smoothed it back from a perfect, pale forehead; the way Elrohir always tugged on a stray strand when he was irritated…

_//'Who are you?'//_

_//'I am you…'//_

With a choked cry, Elladan wrenched his mind back to the present as the memories of _that_ particular situation invaded his mind. The dream. That cursed dream that he was _sure_ had been the start of his isolation from Elrohir. It had invaded his thoughts continuously from the moment he had awakened from it, and as the days had progressed, he had imposed a mental barrier between himself and his twin. It haunted him constantly, even now, its meaning remaining unclear and the emotions it provoked only confusing him further. Its presence lingered, darkening even the most innocent of memories, thoughts and sentences.

Balling his hands into fists, Elladan gritted his teeth. He was going home, he could not, _would not_ allow this…this unspeakable thing to taint the joy of his reunion with his beloved brother. He had had five years to deal with it, and he hadn't. Now he would simply have to face the consequences, and suppress it as far in his mind as he could.

He would not speak of it.

'_Yes,' _he thought firmly, _'It is for the best._'

********

Aragorn paced the length of his private audience chamber as Boromir reported the outcome of the day's activities.

"Four men were killed in the bandit raid this morning on the eastern trail, but the outlaws were disposed of."

"This raiding problem is getting worse," The king remarked thoughtfully, "Perhaps we should place extra outposts along the trail until we have eradicated all of them."

"It might be wise, majesty, but we have neither the resources, nor the men to build new outposts. It would take a much greater number of troops, and whilst Gondor is by no means poor, the eastern trail stretches for thousands of leagues – to build even half the number of outposts buildings would mean nearly doubling taxes."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "You have a point – it's been a hard winter already, to raise the taxes now would mean the death of thousands."

"Precisely, majesty."

"Very well, compose a letter to the First Captain of the Rivendell guard."

"Lord Elrohir, my lord?"

"Elrohir's the Captain of the guard?" Aragorn's eyes widened in panic, "Curses, I didn't send him…"

"A congratulatory gift? Lady Arwen thought it appropriate to send that tapestry you disliked in the Great Hall, majesty."

"Right." Aragorn sighed in relief and rubbed his forehead. "Anyway, where were we?"

"Send a letter to the Captain of the Rivendell Guard…"

"…Asking for a detachment of troops and stone masons in exchange for free trade routes through Gondor."

"A bribe, then." 

"Yes." Aragorn smiled, "And it doesn't hurt that I know the family, either."

Boromir shared a smile with his king. "My thinking precisely."

"Right, anything else?"

"Not at the moment, majesty."

Aragorn nodded and Boromir, taking this as his cue to leave, bowed and departed, shutting the door behind him.

The king of Gondor dropped into a chair near the window and rested his chin on his hand as he listened to Boromir's footsteps receding down the corridor. Frowning, Aragorn idly drummed his fingers against his knee as he stared unthinkingly out of the window and down into the small private garden reserved for his use only.

He had achieved everything in his life: wealth, kingship and marriage to a good wife…so why did he feel such an utter failure?

Shaking himself, he stood and leant to look out of the window, arms resting on the sill. Perhaps it was the stifling atmosphere of the court, then? He had never liked social functions as it was, and simply having dinner each day had been turned into some sort of social fiasco. Aragorn disliked this – hated it with a passion, even – but had discovered that his new wife thrived upon it and so, to dinner each evening he had gone.

Yes, maybe that was the sour note in his life that set his soul thrumming with disease.

_'You're trying exceptionally hard to fool yourself,_' a small voice at the back of his head commented dryly. '_You know perfectly well that social functions have absolutely nothing to do with it.'_

Aragorn frowned and tried to shut the thought out of his head, but the voice persisted. '_Its been five years since you've felt truly happy, you fool, but you refuse to admit it – even to yourself. Wake up for a moment – stop these self-delusions and really_ see_ what you've brought upon yourself thanks to your stubbornness. You've lost the one you loved, and you've been trying to compensate for it ever since._'

"Shut up," Aragorn muttered to himself, but his words lacked conviction.

********

The waves lapped gently on the shore as the small boat grounded on the beach. There was the brief crunch of shingle as soft-soled boots landed firmly of solid ground and the elf straightened, peering around in the gathering gloom. 

Reaching back into the boat, he hauled out a battered leather pack and slung it over one shoulder. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he set off up the beach, brown hair glinting in the dying light of the sun…

**To Be Continued…**

**CB:** How to confuse everyone in one short chapter… er, any questions, just e-mail me or post on my livejournal. Next chapter will be out much quicker, and thaks to everyone who harassed me for this one! ^_~


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